The World of Hermione Granger
by MusicalAlchemy
Summary: Written through the eyes of Hermione Granger, whose life is about to change shortly before her eleventh birthday. Follow her as she discovers friends, knowledge and most importantly, love. Eventual MMHG
1. Letters

A/N: Despite this being a MMHG thus far, a relationship between them while she is still at school would be illegal, and I don't think either of them would do that. Sorry if you just want fluff, but this isn't the story for you.

Wednesday 25th July and Hermione Granger had just woken up to the sound of her mother calling her name up the stairs. Deciding she'd much rather stay in bed that little while longer than admit to the daylight creeping through her curtains, Hermione didn't move.

"Hermione, up, post!"

The wonderful word 'post' made her move, and Hermione thundered down the stairs in her pyjamas to give a quick thanks to her mother, and took the thick envelope from her hand. She ran back upstairs with it, dropping onto the bed to read it. She stared suspiciously at the envelope in her hands for a while, for it was glistening with emerald green ink and read, as plain as the eye could see:

Miss H. Granger

2nd Bedroom

12 Merchant Crescent,

Newbury

"What a strange way to address a letter," she said to herself, turning over the envelope and running a finger over the wax seal. "But wax seals haven't been used in, well, a long time," she muttered, getting more and more confused by the minute. She reached across the table for her letter opener and made a slit at the top, when two more sheets slid out. She picked up the first, as it seemed more official, and read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hermione frowned as she re-read the letter, throwing it onto the side table to read the second sheet, and snorted as she threw both letters in the bin. "Witch indeed, there's no such thing," she muttered before walking out of her bedroom and slamming the door.

After breakfast, Hermione returned to her room and took the pieces of _could it be parchment_? from her bin. Shaking her head, she sat back down on the chair and took the second piece of _no, just thick paper, no-one used parchment anymore_. She laughed at the irony of having such a simple statement of, "all pupils' clothes should carry name tags," next to a list containing none other than a cauldron.

"Mustn't forget it has to be pewter, and whatever "standard size two" is," she said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Giggling to herself, she re-read from the beginning trying to wonder what it was all for, "Well, goodness, they even have pointy hats. Dragon hide? They have dragons in this world, then? I wonder who "conjured" this up from their imagination." She snickered at the terrible pun, and continued reading. "Oh, honestly. _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. They've really gone far on their research for this, haven't they? What on earth is transfiguration? Who would believe such a load of rubbish?"

Late that night, Hermione woke up to the sounds of cats fighting outside. She groaned and turned the side light on. The noises stopped, so she reached across to pick the letter from before out of the bin, and stared at the sheets of what she'd decided, against her better judgement, must be parchment. She'd had a dream about getting away from everyone here, away from the girls who taunted her for her frizzy hair, of all things. She'd been able to have a fresh start amongst people who wouldn't judge her for wanting to learn, and amongst people like her. She remembered an incident a couple of years back, when Louisa, her best friend, had earned a better grade than her in an important test.

"86%? You must be losing it, Hermione," Louisa had said, waving her own test paper with a red 98% at the top. The other girls in the class had joined in, jeering at her. A tall girl who'd pulled her hair earlier in the week picked up Hermione's paper and started reading out her answers, putting on a stupid voice.

"Look here, "A dispersed settlement would be more likely to grow, as there is wood and shelter. Also, there is no risk of flooding. It also has defence, wood for fuel, yet no farmland. The others have no building material". Oh really, Granger, didn't you read the question? It was about nucleated settlements, not dispersed settlements, idiot. Mangy Grangy can't read. Can't brush her hair either, by the looks of it."

Louisa usually stood up for Hermione, but today seemed to be different. She went to stand with the tall girl and said, "No wonder no-one likes her, see how stupid she is? Mangy Derangey Granger."

Hermione had snapped, and, clenching her fists in frustration, all the windows in the classroom shattered, the lights went off and Louisa's paper burst into flames. Louisa screamed and dropped the paper, while everyone else ran out of the classroom. Hermione had burst into tears, and ran out of school to the park. The strange thing was, when she went back to school the next day, nothing was said about the incident, and Louisa was being nice to her again, as though nothing had happened. Hermione waited in anticipation for registration, when she was sure a detention slip would be passed her way. But registration came and went, and when Hermione asked how the windows had been fixed, her form tutor gave her a weird look. She had sat down, and Louisa looked at her oddly.

"What happened to the windows that we don't know about?"

"They shattered, yesterday, when we were in here, after the test, and your paper, it-" Hermione stopped herself and suddenly frowned, "You mocked me. You, and all the other girls in here. You became of them. I remember, it happened."

A voice had whispered from behind her, saying, "You're mad, Granger, you're a raving lunatic." Nothing was ever said, but Louisa stopped talking to Hermione when the rumour went around that she was mad, and made things up for attention. How could the windows have fixed themselves, anyway?

Hermione frowned at the memory, and looked at the second sheet of parchment. A list of necessary uniform, equipment and books stared back at her, daring her to believe in them. She went through the other possible explanations in her mind before reading in more detail. What had yesterday seemed absurd now seemed, albeit vaguely, reasonable. Confused, Hermione weighed up the possibilities of magic and no magic in her head. Magic was for children, surely? Yet here was a letter telling her there was a school for witches and wizards, with mysterious lessons and clothing. Exasperated, she tore up both letters and went back to bed.

In the morning, another letter was waiting for Hermione next to the toast rack. She scoffed and reached for the butter instead, while her father looked over at her ignored post.

"You not going to open your letter this morning? You're usually so excited by post,"

She looked up at him from spreading her toast and looked at the green ink again, "I received one yesterday, and it was about a senior school for magic." She bit into her cold toast, while her father looked on with an expression of mild amusement. "You can open it if you like, but it'll be the same as yesterday". Her father reached across and picked up the letter, while her mother brought over two mugs of tea from the kitchen. She looked over her husband's shoulder to read it and a confused look crossed her face.

"What on earth's this? Something you've applied for, Hermione? I hope you haven't, you're going to the local school, no matter what you and your friend Louisa are planning."

Her mother sat down to drink her tea and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mum, Louisa and I haven't been friends for a while now, and I haven't applied for anything - they just came by themselves."

"Whatever you say, dear," her mother mumbled, across her mug. Hermione picked up the newspaper and started to read, ignoring her mother steadily as she continued to talk. "Just, if you hadn't applied, how would these people know our address? There's no postcode, and no stamp, so it must have been hand-delivered by one of your friends as some sort of elaborate joke. I don't know why you're so averse to going to Malkinwood. It's a very good school. Tracey told me about it, you know, and she said her daughters love it there-"

"-is there a return address somewhere?" her father interrupted, taking note of Hermione's increased grip on the newspaper. She looked up at her father, but before she could speak, her mother interrupted again.

"Exactly! You can't reply if you don't have a return address, and nothing official would ever make a slip up like that! It's obviously a hoax, and honestly - magic? Magic doesn't exist, you silly girl. Who'd believe anything so abnormal? Why don't you ignore it and go into town with Louisa, I hear there's some really nice films on at the cinema, that will take your mind off all of this rubbish, and -"

"Mum!" Hermione interrupted, her face flushed, "I'm not silly, and I've told you before, Louisa and I are not friends. Even if we were, I would never go shopping, because as you well know, I hate it, and-"

"It's not normal for a girl to not like shopping," her mother said, walking towards the sink, "It really isn't, and you haven't even touched the make-up your Aunt Samantha sent you for Christmas. Goodness knows, you're nothing like I was when I was younger, and believe you me-"

"Well maybe I don't want to be like you. What if this is real? What if the reason strange things happen to me is because all of this really exists, that there really is another part to this world that we've never seen. How else do you explain it?"

Her father put down his mug, and looked over at her. "Hermione, why don't you just calm down a bit, we'll soon find out what's behind all of this, there's no use getting upset about it."

"Calm down?" She turned to him, disbelief spreading across her face. "You're asking me to calm down when I've been receiving letters inviting me to a special school for witches and wizards. Even if you don't believe in magic, maybe that's the point? Maybe that's why the witches and wizards can stay hidden - because no-one believes in them. Well I believe in them now, with these letters, and I'm going to learn about magic whether you like it or not."

Her mother spluttered, "How can you learn about something that doesn't exist? I always wondered about the amount of intelligence your daughter contains, Simon,"

Hermione burst into tears and took the letter from her father, running upstairs with it. It was exactly the same as the one before, but when she went through the papers, she noticed another sheet, with the same crest at the top. It said;

'Miss Granger,

Due to complications regarding muggleborn status, a magical-muggle liaison supervisor will take you to Diagon Alley and will be happy to answer any questions you or your parents have regarding Hogwarts and the magical world. Expect your officer at 10am, August 1st.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress'

It was in the same ink as the first letter, and written in the same handwriting, but Hermione hadn't remembered that sheet in the previous letter. She smiled at this development, and looked at the calendar on the wall; it was Thursday the 24th, so there was just over a week to prepare for finding out the secret behind all these letters.


	2. Diagon Alley

Hermione hummed to herself as she tore off yesterday's sheet from the daily calendar on the wall. She crumpled it up and, still staring at the calendar, threw the sheet into the recycling. Today was Friday, August the 1st, and in just under two hours, Hermione would finally see the magical world. To say she was looking forward to it would have been an understatement worthy of one Severus Snape, who, by all accounts, was none too pleased to learn that he would be helping with the muggleborns.

"Albus, I really do not think I am the best man for the job here. I have potions to brew for Madame Pomfrey, lesson plans to draw up, I barely know where to start, there's so much I have to do before-"

Severus Snape, potions master, vampire bat of the dungeons and sole wearer of a frown, sat in Dumbledore's office. The bowl of lemon drops refilled itself as Severus watched, exasperated, as Dumbledore grinned at him.

"Precisely! What you need, my boy, is some fresh air. Clear your mind, get some fresh ideas. Introducing the muggleborns to magic is exactly what you need to get you back on track, give you a fresh start."

Severus' eyebrows twitched, as he attempted to conceal his frustration at the old man in front of him, who was now rummaging amongst the various papers strewn about his desk.

"Sir, might I ask-"

"-ahah!" Dumbledore picked up a piece of parchment with a flourish, holding it out for Severus. "That's the information you'll need, her address, her name, her parents occupations, names, and contact details of the rest of the liaison officers if you need any help."

Severus reached across from his chair and picked up the parchment, glancing at it.

"That will be all, Severus," said Dumbledore, picking up another lemon drop.

Severus nodded and walked out of the Headmaster's office, stalking towards his dungeons to pick up his travelling cloak. Goodness knows he'd need it, traipsing around London with some dim-witted 11 year old. With travelling cloak in one hand, he marched towards the main doors, walking past Hagrid's hut. He walked through the gates, shut them behind him and put his cloak on. He unfolded the piece of parchment and frowned. What on earth were dentists, anyway?

By this time, Hermione was dancing about the kitchen while her parents looked on, torn between amused and concerned. Her father looked over at her, with his eyebrows raised, and suggested, "Hermione, don't you think you should have some breakfast before your shopping spree?"

Her mother pursed her lips and glanced up at the clock while Hermione skipped over to the fridge and took out a yoghurt. Her father raised an eyebrow as she sat down, but Hermione said, "I had some toast earlier, don't worry, I won't die from starvation." Her father smiled at her and looked over at her mother, whose fingers had turned white on the mug she was holding.

"Hermione, for goodness sakes calm down. You won't want to be too let down when you realise that this is all a hoax. You mark my words, there's no such thing as magic, and the sooner you realise that, the sooner-"

"-Mum, you don't know that there's no such thing as magic, you're only assuming. What makes you think that just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. You're always telling me to keep an open mind and keep all my options open, but here you are telling me to just abandon magic because it's childish. There's ten more minutes until we can know for sure anyway, so please, give magic and me a chance."

Her mother frowned and took her mug to the dishwasher, clanging about and moving to the hallway to pick up her coat. "I'm going over there now, Simon, I'm sure Mrs Turnstall will be early anyway."

The next ten minutes passed remarkably slowly for 600 seconds, and Hermione was to be found sitting on the stairs with her coat, scarf and gloves on, waiting for her visitor. Restless, she glanced at her watch and walked over to the living room window, on the lookout for anyone looking magical. After no time at all, a tall man wearing what looked like a Halloween costume turned into Merchant Crescent. Hermione knew that very soon he would get to number 12, and so she walked into the kitchen to tell her father she was going.

"Have fun sweetie, and let us know if you'll be back later than supper time."

The doorbell rang, and Hermione skipped over to the door. She opened it and smiled, only to be met with the cold stare of one Severus Snape.

"You are Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione's father leaned across her, smiled, and put out his hand for Snape, and said "Hello, I'm Hermione's father, you must be her magical-muggle liaison officer?"

"Indeed." Snape ignored the extended hand of Hermione's father, and tried not to sneer.

"Right, well, you'd best be off then, beat the morning traffic, and that." He looked around, and seeing no car, he said, "Taking the bus then? It leaves in two minutes, you'd best be going."

"Indeed." Snape turned around and walked back up the path, and Hermione stepped out the house to follow him. She waved to her confused father, and ran after the tall man with the costume.

They reached the end of the road, but instead of turning left towards the bus stop, he turned right towards the copse. He kept walking forwards until he was in the middle of the trees, and then abruptly stopped, turning to face Hermione. "There is a mode of transport called apparition, it involves centering your magic into taking you wherever you deign to go. This mode of transport is limited to those old enough and who have passed a test, so today I will take you to London by side-along apparition." He put out his arm and said, "Hold my arm, and do not let go until we have arrived."

She grabbed his arm, and suddenly felt as though she was being shoved into a tube. Her stomach constricted, and she felt herself get very dizzy. As suddenly as it had all started, it stopped, and Hermione found herself standing in a cobbled alleyway. She clung to the arm next to her and swayed slightly. The mixture of apprehension, nervousness and too much breakfast boiled up inside her, and she vomited onto the floor.

Hermione shyly took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her mouth, daring to look up at the man who had so kindly transported her here. He fished out a stick from his pocket, and waved it, saying "Scourgify". She watched, amazed, as the vomit disappeared from the cobbles, and that patch now seemed a lot cleaner than the cobbles around it. Magic. She gaped at him, as he pocketed what she was now sure was his wand, and walked down the alleyway, muttering to himself.

She found herself on a busy street full of people wearing the same style cloaks and clothing. Snape turned around and looked at her, to check she was still following, and led her towards a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was a small creature. It was about a head shorter than Hermione, and had very long fingers and feet. It looked like a creature from an Enid Blyton book, and Hermione giggled.

They passed through the doors and found themselves facing a set of silver doors, with words written on them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

A pair of similar looking creatures to the one at the front bowed them through the doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. Long counters ran along both sides on the hall, with more creatures sitting on tall stools behind them. Some were weighing counters, some were scribbling away on parchment, and some were examining stones. The creatures that weren't behind the counters were showing people in and out of what must have been hundreds of doors leading off from the hall.

Hermione couldn't take in everything at first, but soon she realised that she was in a bank; a bank for magical people and now her. She, Hermione Granger, was now part of another world where anything was possible. She beamed up at the tall man, and he glanced down at her, guiding her towards a counter where people were just leaving.

"I wish to open an account for one Hermione Granger," here he gestured towards her, "and to exchange some muggle money. You did **bring** money, I assume?"

"Yes," she said. Hermione retrieved her purse, holding out the money she had been given by her parents. The creature took her money and slotted it through a hole in the counter, picking up a sheet of parchment from the piles next to him on the counter.

"Fill this in, and your account will be ready as soon as possible." The creature picked up a jangling bag from under the counter, and passed it over to Hermione. "Your money has been exchanged to 57 galleons, 2 sickles and 11 knuts."

Mystified by these new terms, Hermione opened the bag and looked in. She saw a collection of gold, silver and bronze coins. She took the forms from the creature and followed the tall man towards a low writing desk. She had no pen, and looked around for any sticking out of the desk. There were no pens, but at the top of the desk there was a box with feathers in. She picked one up, and stared at the shaped end of what was the nib of the quill. She waved it about, and noticed a drop of ink appear on the desk.

"Do be careful, Miss Granger, you'll have ink everywhere with that kind of behaviour."

Hermione stared up at Snape, and back at the quill and forms. She had never used a quill before, and was confused as to where the ink was coming from. "But how-"

"-it is a refillable quill, Miss Granger, you need no ink, just write.

He looked away and she stared at the form. Putting quill to parchment, a huge blob of ink appeared, and she tried to shape it into the word HERMIONE on the line. By the time she reached the bottom of the form, she had learned how to hold the quill, and while still shaky, she managed to create something akin to her signature. "Excuse me, Mr Wizard, sir, I'm finished."

"Professor, not Mr, please. It's Snape, Professor Snape to you." He took her form and walked back over to the desk, while Hermione carefully put the quill back in the box. Holding her very inky hands slightly in front of her, she walked back over to Professor Snape. "We will come later to deposit what you do not spend today, take your key and do not lose it."

He passed her an ornate key, not unlike one she had seen once at her grandmother's house. It was heavier than it looked, and when she put it in her pocket, she could still feel it. She looked up to find that Professor Snape had already started walking back towards the silver doors. She smiled and said "Thank you" to the creature at the desk, who looked startled by her utterance.

Back in the glaring sunlight, Snape looked down at her. "What do you have to get, anyway? Do you have your list?" Hermione took her list from her pocket, and in doing so, left inky splodges on the paper. Snape looked at her hands, tutted, and muttered another "Scourgify" to her hands. They tingled, and Hermione noticed that this time he had not bothered to get his wand out.

"Why didn't you use your wand, sir?"

"I didn't need to. All that magic really requires is the thought processes to tell it what you want to do. Madam Malkin's shop is just here, we'll get your robes first." He pointed towards a shop which had "_Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions" _above the door. As soon as they entered the shop, a very mauve witch greeted them from the desk, smiling. She looked up at Snape and her smile fell slightly, looking bewildered at Hermione and then back again.

"One of yours, Severus?" she said, almost in awe of the tall man all in black.

Snape scowled and sent an icy glare in her direction "Indeed not, Martha, this is a Hogwarts student. I am her liaison officer for today."

"Ah, but of course, Severus, I'll get the material." She seemed relieved for some reason. Hermione looked up at Professor Snape to see that he was still scowling, and wondered why he was so averse to the idea of children. Soon enough, the witch had returned and, showing Severus where to sit, ushered Hermione into the back of the shop where there was a tall stool for her to stand on. Madame Malkin slipped a robe over her head and began to pin it to the correct length.

Looking around, Hermione noticed posters with what she assumed were wizarding celebrities, wearing brightly coloured robes and synthetic grins. She started when she noticed that all the posters were moving, waving at her. They were flicking their hair and giggling to each other, and Hermione scoffed. Just when she had begun to get fed up of standing on the stool, Madame Malkin said "You're done here," and took the robe off her head.

"Will you be wanting anything else dear, other than the standard Hogwarts uniform?"

Hermione stopped for a moment to think, but before she could, Professor Snape spoke from the front of the shop. "Miss Granger will need a thick winter cloak with strong fastenings - "

"Of course, I always forget the cloaks-" Madame Malkin looked up from her notepad, slightly flustered.

"- and please make sure that all items are named clearly."

"Of course, Severus," Madame Malkin said, looking slightly worried. Hermione watched the process, wondering why she would need a thick cloak. It never really became that cold here in winter; it didn't even get below freezing last year. Hermione paid 5 galleons for the clothes, and walked out with Snape.

Still curious about the cloak, she asked the professor about it. "Mr, Professor Snape, sir, why do I need such a thick cloak?"

Snape looked down at her curious face, and answered, "Hogwarts is in the highlands, and it gets very cold in the winter there."

"In the highlands. How come normal people don't see it?"

"The castle is disillusioned from the muggle eye, so that they do not stumble across it."

"Castle? Is Hogwarts very big, then?"

"Hogwarts will, this September, have approximately 1500 students."

"Wow."

Professor Snape stared down at her and glanced at the list he held in his hand. "You need textbooks, Miss Granger, come this way."

At the mention of books, Hermione's eyes lit up, and she followed him, asking him questions all the way into the shop. As they entered, he sent her off with her list to find her curriculum books, whilst he went towards the section marked _Potions._ When she went to pay for her books, and a few others she had spotted on the way, another was put on the counter next to them. It was thick and leather-bound, with the words _Hogwarts: A History_ emblazoned across it in gold.

She stared up at the professor, but he merely said, "You seem to want to know a lot about Hogwarts, and I have no time to answer each and every minute detail, so here you are. All your information will be found here." If he expected her to be put off by the huge and dusty tome, he was wrong. Her eyes sparkled at the thick book, and she beamed at him as she paid her 9 galleons, 2 sickles and 4 knuts for the books.

As they exited the shop, Hermione kept looking into her bag with all the books in. Her money bag still weighing down one pocket, her Gringott's key in the other, and both hands holding bags of clothes and books, Hermione felt satisfied that she was now truly part of the wizarding world. Now all she had to get was potions equipment and a wand.

Hermione and Professor Snape walked past the alleyway they had arrived from, and Snape stopped to look down it. Hermione noticed that there were some shops down there, but everyone seemed to be bustling past the dark alleyway. Snape looked down at Hermione, and over to the other side of Diagon Alley, where there were a few benches.

"Wait there, please, Miss Granger, I need to buy some...items." Snape looked shifty, but Hermione didn't say anything, and instead walked over to the bench to sit down and wait. After a few minutes of watching the people walking past her, Hermione reached into her pocket to get out her money bag. She took out one of the smaller bronze coins and looked at it closely; it had what looked like a horse with wings on it, and the words 'GRINGOTTS BANK' inscribed around the picture. All the coins were similarly designed, though the larger gold coins had dragons on. She couldn't remember what had been on the middle sized silver coins.

Getting out her list from her pocket, she crossed off the items she had bought. Uniform and books so far; all she needed now was scales, phials, a cauldron, a telescope and a wand. Hermione hadn't seen any shops selling wands yet, but the next shop over held bottles and phials, and seemed to contain everything she would need for potions. Staring at the sign that said _Apothecary_, she started when she noticed that Professor Snape was now standing in front of her.

"Have you quite returned to this world, Miss Granger?" he asked, mouth curling upwards at the side. Hermione stared at him, before gathering up her things and standing up. "We shall go to the apothecary after lunch. Entering that shop on an empty stomach is never a good idea." Snape walked away and Hermione jogged to catch up with him, before entering the tea shop opposite _Eeylops Owl Emporium_.

Hermione hadn't noticed how hungry she had become over what had seemed like a few minutes. Glancing at her watch, however, proved her time-estimation to be far off. It was 12:20, and Hermione's stomach growled in connection with the sight of so many different cakes and pastries in front of her. Sitting down, lunch was a silent affair, while the many questions running around Hermione's head fought to get out. She resisted, vowing to learn _Hogwarts: A History_ before she went to school, even if she did nothing else but read it between now and September the 1st.

After lunch, Hermione and Professor Snape made their way into the Apothecary. The smell hit Hermione before anything else, and she scrunched up her nose to try and stop the stench of rotten eggs, moulding plants, and soggy herbs, from getting to her too much. As she looked around, however, the smell of the place was soon forgotten. Barrels of interesting looking substances littered the floor, and on the walls were shelves upon shelves of jars of seeds, powders, feathers and teeth. One shelf held only empty bottles, of varying sizes, though they were all plain glass and all the same shape, unlike the ones she had seen in Professor Snape's bags.

Barely knowing where to start, she went to find Professor Snape, who was crouching by a shelf of beetle eyes. He seemed to be deep in concentration, and when Hermione uttered a quiet "Sir?" he glared at her, startled out of his reverie.

"What, Miss Granger? Have you finished all ready, or is there another reason you see fit to disturb me earlier than necessary?"

Hermione paled, and fought against stuttering, but replied "Please, my list doesn't say which potions ingredients I need to buy,"

"Well, ask at the desk you silly girl, what do you think I am? The eternal source of knowledge divine?"

Hermione ran off, terrified, and stood in the queue, wringing her hands. By the time she reached the till, she noticed a stack of jars, all labelled _First Year Potions_. Slightly breathless, Hermione retrieved out her money bag. The shop had now emptied and she was the last in the queue. Nevertheless, when the shopkeeper said the amount needed, 2 galleons and 6 sickles, Hermione paled. Which ones were sickles? The silver ones or the bronze ones? She didn't have any silver ones, how much bigger were the gold ones?

Desperate and hoping, Hermione passed over three gold coins, and hoped for the best. She was given 11 silver coins back, and Hermione smiled, relieved. She picked up a small phial which had a label saying '15 knuts' on it. She gave the shopkeeper a sickle, and received 14 knuts back for it. Smiling, and looking around for Professor Snape, she noticed him still crouched down by the beetle eyes. Rather than disturb him again, she sat down on a small chair by the entrance.

Determined to work out how the money worked, she rummaged in her bags for a notepad. If she had given the shop keeper 3 galleons for her potions kit, and was given 11 sickles back, and she owed him 6 sickles anyway, that must mean that there were 17 sickles to the galleon. She frowned; that wasn't a very logical number, it's like before decimalisation. She shook her head, and wrote down the figures. If the phial had cost 15 knuts, and out of a sickle, she was given 14 knuts back, then there were 29 knuts to a sickle. That must mean that there were 493 knuts to a sickle.

"How illogical," she said.

Hermione wondered how everything converted to muggle money, but couldn't work out a way of finding out what it was without asking Professor Snape; and she didn't want to do that. She looked up from her notepad to notice that Professor Snape was paying for his goods. She put her notepad back in her pocket next to her bank key, and stood up to wait for him. They went into another shop for her cauldron, scales and telescope, but by this time the only thing Hermione could think about was her wand.

If Professor Snape hadn't ushered her inside the dead-looking shop, Hermione would have walked right past it, assuming it had closed down. With the window display limited to a wand on a purple cushion, peeling letters above the door, and little light emanating from inside, there was nothing to stand out from the rest of the shops. They entered, and a tinkling bell rang from somewhere in the depths of the shop. The front room was empty except for a pathetic stool with spindly legs, which Professor Snape sat down on, crossing his arms.

The amount of dust covered on what must have been hundreds upon hundreds of small thin boxes lining the shelves, reminded Hermione of some old forgotten corner of a library. There was the same feel of awed silence, and a strange tingle of something else, which Hermione assumed must have been from the amount of magic from a wand shop.

A stooped figure made its way from the back, carrying a pile of boxes even dustier than the shelves themselves. "Ah, Severus!" the figure said, and made its way from the dark into the light of the old lamp on the desk. Mr Ollivander smiled toothily, and the lines around his silvery eyes creased up. "Now, I'm sure it is not you who needs a new wand, who might you be, dear?" Hermione smiled back at him.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, wondering how on earth she was supposed to choose a wand from all those stacked up on the shelves. What were the differences anyway? Surely it was just a piece of wood? Hermione hadn't noticed that now she was being measured by a silver tape-measure. It was only when Mr Ollivander walked away that Hermione realised the tape measure had a mind of its own.

"That's quite enough, thank you," Mr Ollivander said to the tape measure, and it collapsed onto the floor. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Granger. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same; and of course, you will never get such good results with another's wand-"

"-unless your magical core has bonded with another, in which case the wands will not be able to tell the difference between you and the other," Professor Snape looked unimpressed, and Mr Ollivander rolled his eyes. Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"Right then, Miss Granger. Try this one. Ebony and phoenix feather, eight and a half inches," Mr Ollivander gave her the wand, and instructed her to give it a wave. Hermione wasn't too sure what he was waiting to happen. So far nothing had, and by the time she had waved what she thought to be twelve identical pieces of wood, Hermione was wondering if she was even magical at all.

Mr Ollivander frowned and went into the back of the shop. Hermione, worried that she had offended him in some way by not being able to find a wand, stood on tiptoes to see where he had gone. He returned with even more boxes, muttering about "stubborn wands today". He put the boxes down and studied Hermione, staring into her eyes, before frowning, shaking his head, and walking over to the side wall. He slid out three boxes and brought these over instead, opening one and handing the wand to Hermione.

"Beechwood and unicorn hair, thirteen and half inches, very flexible," nothing happened. A sigh from Professor Snape prompted Mr Ollivander to thrust the next wand into Hermione's hand. "Vine wood and unicorn hair, 14 inches, very supple". All of a sudden, when Hermione flicked this wand, it exploded into tiny pieces, and Mr Ollivander paled. "Right then, Vine wood and dragon heartstring, 15 inches," and this time, instead of exploding, a small fire appeared at the end of her wand.

Mr Ollivander smiled, charged her 6 galleons for the wand, and ushered them out so he could clean up. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hermione and Professor Snape made their way back down the alleyway towards where they had arrived. This time, Hermione felt a sudden nervousness at going down such a dark, suspicious alleyway, and she vowed to never come down here again. She peered at the sign at the start of the alley. She couldn't read it very well, but it seemed to read, _Knockturn Alley_.

As they apparated away with all of Hermione's bags and parcels, Hermione felt the same nausea returning. Despite vowing not to throw up again, she failed to hold in her ice cream from earlier; but this time Hermione had her wand out first and said "Scourgify". Nothing happened, and in fact Hermione thought it glistened back at her, goading. Professor Snape sneered at her, and, waving his own wand silently, made it disappear. Before she could walk off, frowning, he stopped her.

"You'll need one of these, Miss Granger." He took out a miniature trunk, and put it on the floor of the copse. Hermione wondered what on earth she was supposed to be thinking about the plastic trunk, when Snape waved his wand, muttered something and suddenly it began to grow. Her eyes wide, she stared at Professor Snape. "Well, what else were you going to take everything to Hogwarts in?" he asked, with a certain amount of disdain evident in his voice.

Hermione remained silent until they returned to her house, slightly miffed that she had made a mistake in front of Professor Snape with the cleaning spell. At the door, Hermione rang the doorbell as Professor Snape gave her an envelope.

"It contains your ticket for the train departing London Paddington. There will be a barrier between platforms 9 and 10, simply walk through it with your trolley. Your parents will be unable to follow, I'm afraid, as they are muggles. Do not be late, the train will not wait for you." And with that, he walked off. Hermione looked at the door, at her packages, and groaned as she realised that to open the door she would need to put everything down, and then pick it all up again to take it upstairs to her room. She sighed, put everything down, took out her key and opened the door. The house was silent, as her parents were still at work, and Hermione struggled upstairs with all her packages.

Putting everything on her bed, she went back downstairs for her trunk, realising too late that it was too wide to get it through the door. She cursed, smiling innocently at the neighbours who had been walking past her house, who were now giving her slightly scared looks. "Good afternoon!" she said, cheerfully, and they scuttled off, muttering. She smiled until she looked down at her trunk, and cursed again.

Running up the stairs, to fetch _The Standard Book of Spells_ by Miranda Goshawk, Hermione ran back downstairs with it, leafing through to find anything that looked like it might make things smaller. "Reducio" seemed to fit what she wanted to do, and crouched down behind the trunk to get out her wand. She looked around to check for people, and whispered "reducio". Nothing happened, and after whispering it repeatedly and only getting a few sparks, she prodded the trunk and shouted "REDUCIO" out of frustration. There was a bang, and the trunk disappeared.

At least, she thought it has disappeared; peering closely at the paving slab, she could see a small dark object that looked trunk-shaped. It was 1mm wide, and Hermione picked it up, and put it in her palm to take it upstairs. She shut the front door, and, careful not to drop her now minuscule trunk, she took it upstairs. She put it on the floor and suddenly realised she didn't know how to make it bigger again. She flopped onto the bed and leafed through her book again, finding "engorgio" and trying it out, at normal pitch this time.

After 20 tries, and various different ways of pronouncing "engorgio", it finally began to grow again, and Hermione grinned. Magic was a lot harder than she thought it would be. She vowed to practice as much as possible before school, she didn't want to look like an idiot in a place where everyone else had such a head start. Exhausted with all the magic and so much shopping in one day, Hermione fell asleep. She only hoped there weren't any rules about using magic at home.


	3. The Train

A fortnight later, Hermione's mother was still sore from the realisation that magic did exist. Her father, now used to sudden outbursts of emotion from either his wife or daughter, spent most of his time in his study reading up on new treatments and materials for fillings. Hermione herself spent most of her time in her room, deciding that joining such a different school was a good time for a completely fresh start. No-one knew her there, and she was determined to lose the reputation of being a book-worming know it all.

That should be easy enough at a boarding school, none of her friends to come over at weekends and scrutinise her impeccably tidy room, with books in neat stacks. Books filled her floor to ceiling bookshelves on two walls of her room, all shelves double layered to make use of the shelving. Books formed stacks next to the alcove, and now due to the sudden influx of magical books, another bookshelf had been constructed to start a third wall of her room.

Hermione critically surveyed all the books in her bookshelves. None of these would be suitable to take to Hogwarts with her. If she wanted to start a new her, one with friends, she shouldn't really take any books, let alone muggle ones. Hermione decided resolutely that she would have to wait until the Christmas holidays to read some of them, and, realising the school would have a library, vowed to spend her spare minutes in there, learning all she could about magic.

Yet, she didn't want to seem like a know it all again. Hermione sighed; this was going to be more difficult than she imagined. She couldn't help wanting to learn, thirsting for knowledge. It was how she had been brought up, and even though she couldn't blame her parents for her love of books, she wanted to. She wanted to blame anyone but herself for her lack of friends. Angry tears trickled down Hermione's cheeks, and she brushed them away forcefully.

Crying wouldn't do her any good at boarding school either; the other girls would only laugh at her. No doubt they would all know everything already, and would think her stupid and unworthy of her friendship anyway. Perhaps learning her textbooks a little more thoroughly would help her on her way to getting friends? Picking up her wand and _The Standard Book of Spells_ again, Hermione leafed through until she found spells she hadn't tried yet. Some of them she didn't understand, she supposed she would learn them over time in the school year, but some of them looked rather useful.

There was a spell there for mending glasses; maybe she would make a friend by fixing her glasses for her, after Hermione had saved her from being bullied. Hermione shook her head at the absurdity of it all. She wasn't some kind of superwoman who would make friends by saving them all from a fate worse than death. She supposed knowing how to fix glasses would help, maybe it meant glasses as in phials anyway.

Her mother called her name up the stairs, and Hermione hurried down. Maybe there was no point in trying to change who she was. It would come out eventually, there was no point pretending to be someone who she wasn't. She would make sure she knew all the set books by heart; she would show those wizards that it didn't matter what kind of family you came from, you could still be brilliant. Hermione smirked as she imagined their faces when they realised she was as good as the lot of them; maybe one day better than them.

By the time August the 31st had arrived Hermione had been packed for a week, and every conversation worked its way towards the subject of magic or Hogwarts. Her parents had become used to the idea of their daughter being magic, and now even Hermione's mother was warming to the idea of what Hermione could now do. Hermione had been worried the previous night, when reading one of the history books not on the list. She had read that pupils could be expelled for practising magic outside of school. She reasoned, however, that as nothing had happened so far, nothing was ever going to happen, and it was ridiculous to expect her to arrive at a school knowing nothing at all.

The evening meal had been a quiet affair, and the stilted conversation halted once the conversation reached its inevitable subject of Hogwarts. Hermione's mother looked like she might burst into tears at any second. When Hermione could stand it no more, she offered to make tea for her parents, and her mother looked up at her with watery eyes and muttered "Yes, please." Trying not to look too shocked, Hermione made her way towards the kitchen.

Her mother was the one who had always told her to keep her emotions in check, so that people didn't take advantage of her; and yet here she was, practically bursting into tears at the very mention of tea. Good grief. Hermione decided resolutely that she would never be able to understand her mother.

With all the fears of turning up to Hogwarts having forgotten something very important, Hermione had a long list of everything she was taking with her. She thought about taking sweets with her, because goodness knew what kind of food there would be at a magical food; but there were many problems associated with having dentists for parents, and this was one of them. Hermione realised that if she arrived at King's Cross early enough, she might be able to buy sweets when she arrived. The only problem was, with all her money now in unrecognisable gold and silver coins, the muggle shops wouldn't accept them. Bother. She supposed she would have to pray for decent food instead.

Trudging up to her room, abandoning her mother sniffling at the table, and her father comforting her, Hermione came to the weird and yet entirely wonderful revelation that she would not be seeing her parents until Christmas. There was now a world in which she would be known for being Hermione Granger, not just someone else"s daughter. When both Hermione's parents had started to work full time, her father had joined the PTA, and with that had meant that every new teacher she had didn't know her for her, it was simply "Oh, you"re Simon"s daughter, then?" It was endearing for the first year, but after that, it was simply annoying.

Hermione checked off _Spare toothbrush_ from the list, folding sheets of paper and putting that along with pens inside the trunk. She had decided to take a rucksack for the journey as well, seeing as she didn't know where the trunks would be stored, and she didn't want to be the sad person still in own-clothes, having not realised that access to trunks during the journey would not happen. Hermione was tempted to change into her robes before they left for King's Cross, but decided against it, as it would clearly attract far too much attention. She had also decided to take just a couple of books with her, just in case everyone else was too excited by the whole experience to have a civilised conversation.

Hermione's bedroom door opened, and her father sat on the end of her bed. The latch on her door clicked, and her father didn't seem to know what to say. Her robes folded over her arms, Hermione stood watching him, waiting for him to start talking. "I-" his mouth made a few random shapes, and he looked up at her, with slightly pink eyes. What other marvels would this evening being? First, her mother, and now, her father was disintegrating before her very own eyes. Her father cleared his throat and leaned back on his hands to look up at her.

"Hermione, I hope you realise that even though you"re going away, and we'll only see you at Christmas, I hope you realise you haven"t lost us."

Hermione felt her throat begin to sting, and she put the robes inside her rucksack, trying to make space next to _Hogwarts: A History_. She sat down on the bed next to her dad, and she picked at the skin around her fingernails.

"I just want you to know that if at any point you decide that you've changed your mind about all of this, that all it takes is a phone call – well, owl, I suppose – and we'll be right there to pick you up." He reached over to take her hand, perhaps only to stop her truly destroying the skin on her hands, but she looked up at him and realised she was about to cry. Again. This was getting ridiculous.

Her father continued, "But if you do decide that you want to stay there, then that's fine for us too. We just want you to be happy, and if that means releasing you to those poor unsuspecting magical folk, then so be it." Her father smiled at her, and Hermione beamed back at him, hugging him and letting him put his arm around her. He kissed the top of her head, and Hermione heard the sound of the latch clicking back into place as her mother came in.

"Come on, you," she said, smiling at Hermione with red rimmed eyes. "Are you all packed?" Hermione nodded, trying desperately to avoid the need to sniff "Then let"s to bed with you."

""Night, Mum." Her parents left and Hermione got ready for bed, beaming at her trunk all ready to go, and at the thought of a fresh start. She clambered into bed, and double checked that she had her clock set in time for an early start. She picked her wand up from the bedside table, and whispered "nox".

On the way to King's Cross in the car, Hermione couldn't help but twist over her ticket in her hands. It was detailed around the outside, and had the platform number in clear letters so she couldn't forget it. Thank goodness, for Professor Snape telling her where the platform was, otherwise she'd be in a right mess. Her parents that morning had given her a whole load of, albeit healthy, snacks for the journey. One of the side pockets in her rucksack also held a severely squished ham sandwich, which she supposed would keep her going until they arrived; wherever Hogwarts was, anyway.

The car pulled to a stop. Hermione hadn't even noticed they'd entered London, let alone arrived at King's Cross already. Excited, she stowed her ticket away in her inside pocket so that she couldn't lose it. Hermione had perfected the spells for making objects smaller, but had decided not to turn up with a small trunk. It would have made things difficult if she arrived at Hogwarts and had to explain why she'd been practising magic outside of school. Her trunk didn't have wheels, so her father went off to get her a trolley.

Over on the other side of the car park she saw a very round man helping a scrawny black haired boy with a trolley, holding what looked like another trunk – and an owl! After a few minutes, she saw the round man return to his car, smiling gleefully. The boy must have been a second year, for his parents to have been so happy to leave him at the station so quickly and without a fuss. His mother hadn't even left the car, and his younger brother didn't seem to have noticed anything.

Her dad returned with a trolley, and both he and her mother struggled to get the trunk onto it without it looking like it was going to fall off. They all grinned when they had it on, and her parents fought over who should wheel it towards the station. Her father won, probably due to a reminder of her mother's shoes, and he wheeled it away, leaving her mother and her to walk either side of him.

They walked towards platforms 9 and 10, and Hermione spotted the same scrawny black haired boy wandering around looking worried. She saw him suddenly spin around and follow a whole group of redheads; he must have been waiting for them to arrive. Her heart sank as she realised that the boy can't have been much older than her, and seemed just as nervous as her. He already knew people at Hogwarts. He already had **friends**. Hermione hoped there would be some friendly girls in her dormitory she could talk to that evening. She hoped they wouldn't mind her lack of girlishness, she hoped there would be someone like her she could make friends with. Dragging herself from her thoughts about such things as friends, she said her goodbyes to her parents

"Remember to write when you get there, and let us know when you've settled in. If you want us to send you anything you've forgotten, or anything, just let us know, okay, sweetie?" Her father finished talking, one hand on her shoulder, crouching slightly to look at her. He let go of the trolley to hug her, and Hermione felt a moment of awkwardness before he let go. Her mother did no such thing, but merely repeated her husband's sentiments about writing to them. Back to the lack of emotions thing then, Hermione supposed, turning around to face her trolley towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

Waiting for impact as she ran, Hermione closed her eyes, only to find that she was now standing in front of a red steam train. The platform was packed with people, and Hermione noticed that at the side of the platform, away from the crowd of people, a boy seemed to be peering behind the bin. She studied him for a while as he stood up, tilted his head backwards and groaned. "Oh, Trevor," he muttered, and then, "I'm coming, Gran, I'm sure he's somewhere… oh what have you done now, Neville?" Hermione was very confused.

A group of screaming girls ran into the train, seemingly away from a dreadlocked boy who was grinning and holding a small box. He yelled after them, "It's not dangerous!" Two boys who were obviously twins came up behind the boy. One tousled his hair, and the other took the box from him.

"Hey Lee, what's-"

"-in the box?"

The dread-locked boy laughed, and one of the twins picked out a very dark tarantula.

"Wicked."

Hermione, who hadn't noticed the people scurrying around her whilst she was watching this, jumped as someone crashed into her knees. It was the same boy who had been peering around the dustbin, mentioning someone called Trevor and Neville, and now he was on his knees, looking up at her with a worried expression.

"Sorry, " he muttered, turning red, "I'm just, I mean, I've been, I've looking for my toad," he stumbled through the sentence, looking as though he wanted the ground to swallow him up. He might have been pathetic, but maybe helping him would be a good way to gain friends?

She smiled at him, and said, "Trevor? Trevor the toad?" The boy nodded. "And you must be Neville." He nodded again.

"Neville Longbottom, that's me." He sighed and looked around the floor.

"I'll help you look for him; just let me put my trunk on the train."

He stood up and gaped at her as she hauled her trunk up into a carriage. She spotted a dark green creature jumping around the corridor. She rushed around to tell Neville she'd seen his toad, when a whistle went. That seemed to have been the sign for the beginnings of complete bedlam, and all at once, people started clambering onto the train, and parents stepped back to wave goodbye. Neville jumped up, and looked into her carriage.

"Don't worry, Neville, I saw a toad just further down the carriage, we can look for him in a bit."

She leaned out the window, seeing other people wave their parents goodbye. A young red-haired girl was crying, and seemed to be part of the large family she had seen the scrawny boy with earlier. The woman was chastising the twins with the box, and as the train began to move, the young red haired girl ran to keep up with the train. Hermione brought her head back inside, wondering why magic ran in some families, and seemed to just appear in some people; as it had in her.

Neville had found his toad, and had put Trevor next to him on the seat. Hermione slid the compartment door open and found herself face to face with yet another red head. This one had his robes on already and had a badge with "Prefect" on it. She was too scared to talk to him, and quickly ducked back inside the compartment until he had passed. She reasoned against trying to make more friends, if people were wandering about aimlessly.

For the rest of the journey, she and Neville talked about the wizarding world. She discovered that he had lived with his grandmother for a long time, and they all thought he couldn't do magic. She explained all about what had happened with Professor Snape, and Neville paled. She tried telling Neville all about what she had learned from the books, but he seemed adamant to not show any magic around her in case he was expelled before he had even arrived.

He lost his toad again shortly after the second time the trolley lady came past, and Neville went off to look for him while Hermione changed into her robes. She couldn't see a mirror, but she felt a lot better with her magic clothes on. They still smelled like new clothes, but Hermione felt that they had been made even to fit her small size, and the cloak floated around her when she walked experimentally up and down the small compartment.

She flounced down the corridor, trying to make the cloak billow as much as possible, and went to ask the driver how long they had before they arrived. He seemed bored, and told her that she had a few minutes. Hermione decided to help Neville look for his toad, to make the last moments go faster, and she found him near the end of the train. He looked desperate.

"I've asked in every compartment, and no-one's seen him so far."

Hermione smiled brightly at him. "Don't worry, we'll just ask around again, he has to be somewhere."

They asked in every compartment, even one with a stuck up looking blonde boy and two thugs. She wasn't about to be bullied at this new school, so she threatened to hex him. When he didn't believe her, she pretended to get very angry and muttered "nox" while flicking her wand to make the lights go out. That seemed to frighten him enough, and backed off. Neville now looked more scared of her than ever before.

They both slid open the door to one of the last compartments to see another red-head with his wand out. Intrigued to see a real wizard perform a real spell, she stayed to watch. She was surprised to see that they seemed to know less than she did, and she told them both how she had learned the textbooks so as to be well prepared for the term. The boys looked stunned, and she was ready to leave, until the scrawny boy mentioned that he was-

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Hermione replied, slightly shocked. She remembered the many chapters she had read in _Modern Magical History_, and all the other books she had read. He seemed stunned, again, and she tried to turn the subject towards houses. She was trying to impress them with much she knew, without sounding like a know-it-all. She failed miserably, and, telling them they would be arriving soon, she turned to leave, before she felt bound to point out that the ginger boy – Ronald Weasley – had dirt on his nose. He ought to have been grateful; he didn't want to make a bad impression, did he?

As she passed the same blonde boy and his thugs on her way back to her and Neville's compartment, he sneered at her. They had just looked in on the next compartment when there was a crash and yell from Ron Weasley and Harry Potter's compartment. Anxious to make friends with these boys, she went to help them. They didn't seem pleased to see her, so she left again.

The sky outside was purple, and she could almost make out the shapes of mountains in the distance. They must have been really far north for these kinds of trees, she thought. Neville still hadn't found his toad when the train had stopped, but she placated him. No use worrying about a magical toad, Neville could ask someone to summon him or something once they arrived at the castle.

They pulled in to stop at a small station, and a huge man with a lantern called out at them to follow him. Worried, and a little bit scared, she tried not to slide down the slippery path he was taking them along. Just before she had the urge to walk up to him and ask where they were going, the path spread out to show them all a dark lake, with lots of boats moored up at the edge.

Hermione heard the tall man yell "No more'n four to a boat!" and she scrambled to get into one with Neville, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter in. She had just sat down when the man yelled, "FORWARD!" and the boats did indeed move forwards. They glided under a curtain of ivy, which hid a wide opening in the cliff face, and they were carried along a dark tunnel. The tunnel seemed to take them right underneath the castle, and they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they all clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

The tall man was checking all the boats, and yelled, "You there!" at Neville. Neville stared, startled. "Is this your toad?" he said. Neville's face broke into a blissful smile, and he stuffed Trevor in his pocket as they walked up a grassy bit towards an enormous oak front door. Hermione realised she was trembling, and no-one else seemed any more confident. The tall man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Immediately the door swung open to reveal a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. She had a very stern face, and all chatter that had begun amongst the first years now ceased. Professor McGonagall thanked Hagrid, and she swung the door open. The entrance hall was small, but the cold stone walls were lit with flaming torches akin to Gringotts. Before Hermione could take in any more of the detail, they were shown into an anti-chamber. They all crowded in, and Hermione was jostled about as people moved around.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," intoned Professor McGonagall, silencing everyone yet again. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes within your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called..."

Hermione tuned out at this point. As fascinating as it all was the first time you heard it, Hermione had now read _Hogwarts: A History_ 36 times and she could have recited the welcoming speech herself. She imagined this is what it must be like to take people around museums, carelessly intoning the same thing every year, safe in the assumption that no-one would have been there before, and so won't notice your eyes glaze over. Hermione was brought back to life as someone elbowed her in the side on the way to flattening their hair.

"...I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." Professor McGonagall strode out purposefully, her robes floating around her feet like how Hermione had tried to make hers do on the train. She stared after the professor in awe, and nervous chatter began all around her. This was the bit she didn't know as none of the books mentioned what the sorting entailed. Hermione was safe in the confidence of having learnt almost all the course books off by heart, so she was more interested to see the ceiling she had read so much about. Everyone looked nervous, and Hermione began chattering about which spells they might need and what they'd need to fight.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling just as two iridescent figures made their way through the walls, chatting. The girls next to her screamed, and she jumped in spite of herself. The ghosts tried to ask them why they were all there, but no-one answered him. The other ghost told them all he was called the Fat Friar and that he hoped to see them in Hufflepuff.

The door clanged open and Professor McGonagall returned, telling them the hall was ready for them. "Move along now," she said in a sharp voice, "and form a line".

They entered the hall, which was twice as large as Hermione had imagined it to be. Thousands upon thousands of candles floated above the tables, and the four house tables were filled with students, gaping at them. Hermione felt herself turning red, and tried to swallow her stage-fright. She noticed the girl in front of her look up at the ceiling, like so many other people in the line, and she whispered that, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

They all spread out when they reached a dais at the front, upon which Professor McGonagall had placed a stool and a very dirty hat. The hat was patched, frayed, dirty, and Hermione wondered what her mother would have done had she seen such an unsanitary hat. Hermione realised that this was the hat that had been mentioned as being in Dumbledore's office. The hat twitched and began to sing from the brim-

"Oh you may not think me pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause, and the hat bowed to each table. Hermione, relieved that she didn't need to know any spells yet, waited impatiently for Professor McGonagall to get to "Granger" in the alphabet. When her name was called, she practically ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

A small voice in Hermione's ear started to talk, and Hermione fought the urge to twitch. "Certainly a ready mind here, learnt all the spells you can already, I see. Though, technically illegally I might add." Hermione blushed, "So plenty of daring there. Loyal to your friends; you'll do well in GRYFFINDOR!" the last word was shouted to the rest of the hall, and the hall burst into applause like it had for the rest of the first years.

Neville was sorted into Gryffindor like she had, and he walked over to the table still wearing the hat. He had to jog back to give it to "MacDougal, Morag". The blonde boy from earlier swaggered forwards in response to "Malfoy, Draco", and the hat screamed "SLYTHERIN" at the hall, barely before the hat had touched his head. He went to join his friends, looking very pleased with himself.

Hermione twisted around in her seat to look at him, and he sneered at her, before talking to his friends. Looking around her, Hermione recognised a few people from the walk towards the boats, and smiled at them. Neville was at the other end of the table to her, and she was sitting next to the tall red haired boy she had seen on the train with the prefect badge. Whispers broke out as Harry Potter went to take the hat.

His sorting took longer than the rest of the people, and everyone around Hermione had started whispering. Every table looked eager, and some of the teachers had leaned forwards to look at him. Hermione scoffed; he was just another 11 year old boy, just like the rest of them. No need to make him into some kind of god. It yelled "Gryffindor", and everyone on her table shouted and clapped as loud as they could. Harry sat down opposite the ghost from earlier, and the prefect Hermione was sitting next to went to shake his hand. The red-haired twins were chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" and Hermione saw Hagrid give the thumbs up to Harry. Her stomach sank again; he even had friends amongst the teaching staff. She was doomed.

She clapped loudly as Ronald Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, trying not to look too sour at the thought of having to spend time with the rude boy. He **still** hadn't cleaned his nose for goodness sakes! Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took away the stool, still managing to make her robes billow. Hermione vowed that one day she would make her robes billow like that.

The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, welcomed them, and his "few words" consisted of "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Everyone around Hermione clapped and cheered, but Hermione herself wasn't too sure how serious he had been. She overheard Percy tell Harry Potter that Dumbledore was a genius, but Hermione was too busy staring at all the plates of food now in front of them all. After a brief pause, Hermione started piling things onto her plate. Roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, sweetcorn, carrots and gravy all found themselves on her plate, and there were jugs of an orange liquid.

Percy on her other side told her it was pumpkin juice, and Hermione reached instead for the water jug to her other side. Percy turned out not to be the eldest brother, for he had two older brothers outside school, who were also twins. Percy explained that his younger twin brothers were trouble makers, and it was best to stay away from them if at all possible. On the other side of Percy, conversation had turned to families, and, rather than admit she was the only magical person in her family, she started talking about the professors with Percy.

"Which teachers teach which subjects? I know Professor Snape, he took me to Diagon Alley, but who are the others?" Percy looked stunned that Snape had taken Hermione to Diagon Alley, but when she explained that he had to, he calmed down.

"That's Hagrid, he's a gamekeeper, so he doesn't teach anything. You know Professor Snape, next to him is Professor Quirrel, he teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall, she's Transfiguration—"

"—I **do** hope they start lesson straight away, there's so much to learn. I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult."

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing."

Hermione was about to reply when Percy was distracted by Harry slapping a hand to his forehead. Hermione gave up and started on her pudding. She had decided to relish being surrounded by as many puddings as possible, and was trying a bit of all of them. She hoped no-one had noticed just how much of the quickly vanishing treacle pudding had gone down her throat. Just a few minutes after she had finished, the puddings disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore stood up again.

"First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to new pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes found the Weasley twins, and Percy made an odd noise in his throat. "I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team will please contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A couple of people laughed, but most people looked either stunned or scared. Percy said, "That's odd, he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. The forest's full of dangerous creatures, but I do think he might have told us prefects about the third floor."

Dumbledore continued, "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Hermione noticed that Professor Snape looked somewhere between trying not to throw up and trying not to strangle someone. His knuckles had gone white, and the rest of the teachers' smiles seemed rather fixed. Dumbledore waved his wand, and a long ribbon formed itself into words of what Hermione realised was the school song. "Everyone pick their favourite tune," Dumbledore said, "and off we go!"

Instantly a cacophony of sound invaded her ears, for everyone was bellowing the song at a different rhythm and pitch. It was dreadful, but everyone seemed to be having fun, and everyone finished at different times. Eventually only the Weasley twins were left, singing to a slow funeral march. Percy was going red, and looked like he wanted badly to tell them off. Everyone clapped, including Dumbledore, and he said, "Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Hermione decided he must be mad, and she followed Percy out the door. After the meal, Hermione felt wide awake, apparently in stark contrast with the rest of the year. The people in the portraits adorning all the walls of the castle were moving, talking to each other and pointing at them as they went past. Percy took them through hanging tapestries, hidden doors, and eventually they arrived outside a huge painting of a woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it, and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. It was a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs. Percy directed all the girls through one door to their dormitory, explaining that boys could not walk up the staircase. They had all giggled at that, and trooped off to find their trunks, which had miraculously appeared already, one at the end of each bed.

Hermione was glad she hadn't done any magic to her trunk, as it might have caused adverse effects with whatever spell had magicked the trunks up here in the first place. Hermione supposed there was some sort of placing spell on each of the trunks – to find the suitable house once they had been sorted, and to pick a bed for them. There was a bathroom off each of the dormitories, and all the girls apart from Hermione piled into it. Hermione quickly unlocked her trunk with her wand, and followed them into the bathroom. She didn't want them to know how many spells she knew.

All the girls ooh-ed and aah-ed at the floor to ceiling mirrors, and Hermione wondered what all the fuss was about. Mindless chatter surrounded Hermione, but while everyone else seemed ready to go to bed, Hermione's head was still whirling with everything she had seen that day. There were so many names to learn, and so many rules and directions.

Hermione knew from _Hogwarts: A History_ that there were 142 staircases in Hogwarts, some of which were not as simple as they seemed. Some had vanishing steps, some went different places on different days, and some of them moved randomly. The doors weren't any simpler; some were disguised, some needed to be asked politely, some needed to be tickled in particular places, and some weren't doors at all, but walls, which were just pretending. It was all very confusing, and Hermione wished there was a map somewhere of the whole castle.

Hermione sat next to her trunk on the floor, and unfolded her robes to hang them in the cupboard. She came across all her textbooks, and piled them up neatly in the shelf inside the cupboard. Hermione wondered if they would have lessons straight away, or whether they would be doing something else the next day. She hoped they would start straight away; it might give her a chance to show how good she was.

After she had put everything away, Hermione got into bed, drawing the red hangings around her bed for privacy. The other girls had fallen asleep when she was unpacking, and now Hermione wondered whether it was a good thing to go to a school where no-one knew you. Fighting back tears, Hermione drew the thick duvet around her, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning, fell into sleep.


	4. A Friend in Need

The next morning, Hermione woke up earlier than everyone else there. It took her a few seconds to wonder why her bed felt different, and why there were curtains around her, but after a while she realised she was at Hogwarts. Realising that last night she hadn't had time to start her diary as was usual for the first day of each year, Hermione got out the leather bound notebook and put it in her bag. She planned to find somewhere nice outside to sit, so that she could write after breakfast. Adding all the textbooks she could to her bag, she wished she knew a spell to make things lighter. She couldn't just make everything smaller, and she wasn't sure how much magic she was allowed to use outside of lessons. She had a metal case with quills in, so she put that in her bag along with her pad of parchment and bottle of ink. She got dressed and took her bag with her to the Great Hall.

At least, that was the plan. 20 minutes later and Hermione found herself in yet another new corridor. They all looked the same, and even though she had tried to retrace her steps from the previous night, she couldn't. She couldn't remember which tapestries you had to walk through, which ones you had to tap, and she was getting very frustrated. Thankfully it would be another hour at least before anyone else even thought about getting up, and Hermione relaxed. She couldn't be late for anything this early. She didn't think lessons started straight after breakfast anyway.

Continuing down the corridor she was in, she suddenly recognised one of the paintings. She smiled at it, and walked slightly faster down the corridor. However, she turned the corner and had the sinking realisation that this wasn't the corridor she thought it was – the paintings must have moved. She could have sworn that that suit of armour had been nearer the common room last night as well. Yelling in frustration, she heard a creak behind her. A bemused Professor McGonagall stepped out from behind a painting, with her eyebrows raised and seemingly about to tell Hermione off.

"I'm sorry, professor, it's just I'm trying to find my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, and I've no idea where I am. "

Professor McGonagall held up her hand to silence Hermione. "Do not worry yourself, is it Miss Brocklehurst? "

Hermione shook her head, "It's Granger, Professor McGonagall, Hermione Granger, "

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry, I'm usually quick with names. My apologies, Miss Granger." Hermione couldn't quite get used to being called 'Miss Granger', it sounded so foreign. And yet that must be how the teachers felt, Professor this and that. Still; Hermione was 11, and 'Miss Granger' was still too odd to get used to.

"Could I ask, Professor McGonagall, which way is the Great Hall from here? "

Professor McGonagall didn't seem to be the kind of teacher to ask directions from, but took her all the same. "You'd only get more lost if I just told you. "

Hermione followed behind, her bag banging into her leg at each step of the journey. Hermione was sure that by the end of the term she would have a permanent bruise there, but she didn't mind. Hermione couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make her look like a complete idiot, so she stayed quiet until they arrived.

"Here we are, Miss Granger. The Great Hall. Enjoy. " With that, she walked off, only to fish through the papers in her hand to turn around and give her one. "You might as well have your timetable now, you won't be at breakfast twice, I assume. " She walked off again, cloak billowing around her ankles. Hermione stared at her, wondering again how she managed it. She shook her head and entered the Great Hall, only to find it practically devoid of pupils. The Gryffindor table was completely empty, and there were only three people on the Ravenclaw table. Hermione sighed, resigned to being the only one up that early.

As she sat down on the empty table, the plates around her filled themselves with food. Hermione supposed there was a charm to detect where people sat and to fill up the plates around them. With her bag next to her, Hermione got out her _History of Magic_ textbook. It all looked so fascinating; she was looking forward to lessons. Not as much as she was looking forward to Charms and Transfiguration, though. Since reading about the spells over the holidays, Hermione had realised there was a lot more to them than simply waving the wand properly and saying the words correctly.

Transfiguration was particularly difficult, but Hermione wanted to make a good impression with her house mistress and her fellow Gryffindor students. As professor McGonagall was their house mistress, she might be more likely to give them house points for good marks. With that thought, she got out her transfiguration textbook. The first chapter was all about turning matches into needles. It looked interesting enough, but Hermione had tried it at home and it hadn't worked.

Hermione decided she would try to find the library, though not knowing her way around school, that would be difficult. A boy on the Ravenclaw table was just finishing breakfast, and Hermione quickly shoved some toast in her bag. She could probably heat it up later. She sat and waited until the boy had started leaving before leaving herself, and waited for him outside the doors.

"Excuse me, " she said, not quite loud enough. "Excuse me, could you tell me where to find the library? "

The boy looked stunned, and yet he agreed, as Professor McGonagall had done, that taking her would be a lot less confusing. They talked about all the different teachers, and he gave her advice on each of them.

"With Professor Snape, make sure you read the instructions twice on the board. Chop up your roots really finely, he likes that, and it makes your potions better.' Hermione nodded, mentally taking notes. 'Professor Quirrel stutters a lot, but he gives great notes for the exams, so make sure you take down everything that you can. Professor Binns, well, just try and stay awake. " The boy laughed, and Hermione became confused.

"I thought Professor Binns was History of Magic?" The boy nodded at her, with a quizzical expression evident on his face. "But I've read the textbook, it all looks so fascinating!"

The boy laughed again. "The subject may be great on paper, but Professor Binns is as boring as death; literally. He's a ghost. He fell asleep next to the fire in the staff room, and the next morning his ghost just left his body and carried on teaching. "

"Oh, " said Hermione, disappointed that History of Magic might not be as interesting as she thought it would be.

"But never mind, there's still Professor Flitwick, and he's really animated and interesting, so you should be fine there. Just don't make any jokes about elves or short people. He gets easily offended by that."

"Madame Hooch is easy enough to please, just be a good flyer. Professor McGonagall...well just hope she doesn't pick on you too much. She's bound to pick up on the tiniest details, and I don't think I've seen her compliment a student in all the time she's taught me. "

Hermione sighed, and as they reached the library, she turned to the boy and said, "Thanks for your help. Hopefully I can practice as much as possible outside lessons, and I'll still pass my exams. " The boy smiled and walked away.

As Hermione entered the library, she spotted a woman at a desk. She wore her small glasses with the same amount of disdain as she wore her frown, and looked like a woman not to be trifled with. Hermione, trying not to tremble, introduced herself. "Hi. I'm Hermione Granger, and I'd just like to ask how everything is organised in here?"

The woman frowned a little more at her, and began talking as though she was both mocking Hermione and telling her the rules from a list. "The books are divided up by a system of numbers; the cards pertaining to each book are in that shelf _over there_. The restricted sectionis - just – that. Restricted! Fiction is near the back. **No** food to be consumed in the library. **No** drawing on books. **No** writing in books—' With every new phrase, the librarian stamped a date on a piece of card, and ruthlessly shoved it in a plastic holder, '—**No **spells on books. **No** ripping out pages from books. **No** bending the spines on books. **No** extendedloan for books, and, **finally**, absolutely no talking!' With that she put the stamper on the desk, smiled frighteningly at Hermione, and whispered 'Any questions? "

Hermione whimpered and walked to the back of the library where she had seen a few tables. The library was pretty much empty, and the tabled section was devoid of people, so Hermione plonked her bag on the desk with a thud.

"SILENCE!" screeched the librarian from the front of the library, and Hermione cringed, hunching her shoulders. Hermione supposed it wasn't easy keeping order in a magical school. Thinking over what the Ravenclaw boy had said, she got out her Transfiguration book. She still had matches in her bag, and Hermione got one out and put it on the table. Poking it, shoving it and hitting the match with her wand, trying various pronunciations of the word gave no results, though Hermione thought it at least looked slightly shiny now. She poked an end. It was still dull.

Arriving breathless at the charms classroom, Hermione sat down in the only available seat at the front, next to Lavender Brown and in front of Ronald Weasley. She huffed, and got out her parchment, pen and ink ready to take notes. The teacher, Professor Flitwick, was so short he had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He took a register, and when he reached Harry's name, he fell off his piles of books. There was a lot of sniggering, and Flitwick decided instead to cast a spell, taking in their seating positions.

He launched straight into the lesson, explaining what Charms was all about, and all about their uses. When he took a break to get down more textbooks for them, she looked around the room. Most people hadn't been taking notes, and she grimaced. She knew which people would be more stressed when exams came around. They might all be relaxed now, but there were only a few months until the end of school, and they'd wish they'd taken notes. She smiled as she wiped her quill on the blotting paper, and began taking more notes.

All through the next few minutes she could feel someone poking her in the back. She could ignore them. If she ignored them, they would get bored at leave her alone. Ten minutes later and she was still being poked, so she whirled around in her chair to witness Ronald Weasley **drooling** over his arm and emitting a huge snore. One arm was folded in front of him to form a pillow, and the other hung loosely down in front of him, pointing towards Hermione. "Honestly," she huffed, and shoved Ronald's arm away from her, dislodging his other arm and causing his face to hit the desk.

His head shot up, and eyes squinting. He mumbled, his mouth stayed gaping open, and his head flopped back down onto his arms. Harry laughed. Boys were incorrigible. She only hoped she could sit far away from them in the next class. The bell went for the end of the lesson, and Hermione flounced off in search of Transfiguration. She knew it would take ages to work out the quickest route, and she didn't want to be late.

Even worse, she was early. She creaked open the door, but found the classroom empty, so she walked in. There were posters on the walls, so Hermione dumped her bag on a desk at the front and walked over to the wall. She had only briefly glanced at the first poster when a sudden rush of noise from the outside caused her to leap towards her bag again, trying to make it look like she'd only just got in. It was Neville, and he came to the front to put his bag next to hers.

"I've found a cage for Trevor, so he can't run away! " He beamed at her, and she was just about to respond when the rest of the class came in. A door opened at the back of the classroom and Professor McGonagall entered, swooping to the front of the classroom. As soon as everyone had sat down, she gazed at them all with steely eyes. Her clear voice cut across the silence, and no-one dared interrupt her.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned. " She gave the evil eye to everyone and sat down, also taking a register. When she had finished, she crossed her hands in front of her on the desk, looking at each pupil in turn. "I hope you are not foolish enough to wish to cross me. You may all be my Gryffindors, but that does not mean I will grant you exception to your fellow first year students. Take notes, I will dictate. "

There was a scramble for paper, quills and ink, and then she began. The notes were complicated, but they were also concise, and Professor McGonagall was ready to answer any questions. After twenty minutes of taking notes, she gave them all matches, and Hermione smiled. Professor McGonagall wrote the incantation on the board, and demonstrated with her match, how to turn it into a pin.

She had made it look simple, but by the end of the lesson all Hermione had managed to do was get it to the same silvery colour, and this time it was pointed. Hermione hadn't noticed that no-one else had even got that far, and so was surprised when Professor McGonagall pointed her out, and showed everyone her match/pin. She smiled at Hermione, and Hermione finally felt she had achieved something.

Neville stared at Hermione, and said, "She never smiles. I didn't know she knew how to use those muscles in her face any more.' "

Hermione thought it prudent not to mention that that was in fact the third smile that day she had received from Professor McGonagall.

Over the next week, Hermione realised that most of the teachers hadn't noticed the amount of effort she was putting into lessons. Professor Snape seemed keen to point out anything she had done wrong in an essay, even if the content was as near to perfection as she could manage. His sneering voice echoed in her head from when he had told her she had run over the length limit far too much, and so had to give her a U. Professor Binns never seemed to notice whether his students were listening or not, so he was useless. Professor Flitwick seemed to expect perfection anyway, and so no matter what Hermione did, it was not out of the ordinary. Excelling at flying and impressing Madam Hooch was out of the equation.

On the second Thursday of the term, at 3:30, the Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way down to the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down towards the forbidden forest. There were brooms in two lines down the grass, and Madam Hooch told them all to stand next to a broom.

"Stick your right arm over your broom, and say, 'up'" she instructed, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. Everyone shouted "up" at the same time, and a few people's brooms jumped into their hands, like Harry's had. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. After a few minutes, even Neville had his broomstick in his hand, though Hermione suspected he had simply picked it up when no-one had been looking.

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount the brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down correcting their grips. Neville by this point was muttering to himself, trying to keep calm. It emerged that he was afraid of heights, and flying didn't seem the best pastime for him. Just before Madam Hooch blew her whistle, Neville launched himself into the sky, seemingly too worried to be left behind.

Everyone gasped and stared up at him as his sweat-drenched hands tried desperately to cling onto the broom. He slid off, slowly at first, but then suddenly he was falling to the ground, yelling. He landed with a resounding thunk, and Neville lay, face down, on the grass in a heap. Hermione hid her face in her hands, dreading to think what had happened to him. She took them away again when she heard Madam Hooch say she was taking Neville to the hospital wing, and no-one was the leave the ground.

That didn't last for long, for as soon as Malfoy noticed that Neville had dropped his remembrall, he snatched it and threatened to leave it in a tree for him. Harry, anger showing in his pink face, mounted his broom. Hermione shrieked a warning, but he didn't take any notice of her, and took off. Hermione couldn't watch, and she turned around to face the school, where the two dots representing Neville and Madam Hooch seemed to have encountered a tall emerald green dot. The green dot nodded, and started walking towards them, robes billowing.

By the time it got close enough to make out facial features, it had picked up speed, and Hermione recognised it as Professor McGonagall. Her eyes snapped up to see Harry and Draco in the sky, and an expression of pure anger flitted across her face. Draco looked towards the crowd, and, noticing Professor McGonagall, he shouted "Catch it if you can, then!" and threw the remembrall, and flew back down to the ground.

Harry shot towards the clear ball, and Hermione heard Professor McGonagall emit a high pitched gasp. "Potter, get back here!" she shouted at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Hermione's heart pounding for reasons unknown, they all watched as Harry grabbed the remembrall and stood up, just as Professor McGonagall yelled "HARRY POTTER!" Harry's face fell, as he realised that he had broken Hooch's word to not leave the ground and he was soon to be expelled.

She marched Harry off, and excited chatter broke out amongst the remaining first years. Hermione mentally counted up all the points she had accumulated from good homework and answering questions in class, and was furious that some boy could get expelled from sheer stupidity and render all her hard work useless. After all she had done, even Professor Snape had given her points. After all that and Slytherin would win the house cup this year after all.

By dinner time, Hermione noticed that even though Harry should have been quieter than usual, this being his last meal, he was laughing; actually laughing with Ron. The counters outside the great hall hadn't changed, but Hermione assumed that by morning Gryffindor would have no counters at all. She wondered how many points being expelled equated to, and ate her pudding in frustration. She overheard Harry, Ron and Malfoy talking about a midnight duel and she got even more furious. Fancy trying to lose more points when they already had next to none! Hermione told them so, and Ron scoffed at her.

"It's really none of your business," they told her, and Ronald's curt "Goodbye" told her in one word that she wasn't wanted. Hermione ran out of the great hall. She had been here almost a week and everyone already thought she wasn't friend material. She had tried everything, being nice to everyone, offering them advice on how they could do better in lessons, and she had tried stopping Harry getting in trouble. No-one appreciated her efforts, and Hermione didn't understand.

Angry tears making their way down her face, Hermione walked around the school, not entirely taking notice of where she was going. She knew her way around the school pretty well, and so it didn't matter. She passed groups of first years, none of whom stopped to ask her why she was crying, of could she like to join them. She cried harder and started to run towards where she knew was another girl's bathroom. Her eyes blurry, she rounded a corner and ran straight into Professor McGonagall. Hermione stepped back in shock, and muttered constant apologies. Professor McGonagall again held up her hand to silence her.

"You know you shouldn't be running in corridors, Miss Granger, and certainly not around blind corners when you can run into anyone," Hermione lifted her head to look at Professor McGonagall and almost burst into tears again when she saw how angry Professor McGonagall was. Hermione brushed away her tears, not wanting to impose on Professor McGonagall any more than she had to. Goodness knows professors couldn't always counsel idiotic students who were only crying because they were so useless at making friends. McGonagall took Hermione into an empty classroom, and she sat on a desk.

"As your house mistress, I must ask why you are crying."

Hermione sniffled, and said, "It's nothing, professor, I'm just being stupid."

Professor McGonagall smiled, and got out a tissue from her bag. "Stupid is something very far from being used to define you, Miss Granger. Don't think I haven't noticed all the effort you're putting into your classes. Even Professor Snape has mentioned, albeit begrudgingly, how eager you are to do well in his class."

Hermione looked up, shocked. "He has?" McGonagall nodded.

"And so I very much doubt that the cause for your crying is stupidity,"

Hermione mumbled something, and continued with, "then how come I've been here over a week and no-one will willingly talk to me? Everyone else in Gryffindor has someone to talk to outside of lessons, but not me. I've tried everything I can think of, and no-one's noticed. I try and help people and all they do is either ignore me or tell me to go away." She blew her nose, and Professor McGonagall tucked a strand of her stray hair behind her ear.

"Do not worry yourself about it, Miss Granger. Friends do not come instantly; they will come when the time is right. You cannot buy friends, not true friends. You cannot bribe them, offer to do homework for them—" and at this, Hermione looked up guiltily. "You cannot do anything other than be entirely yourself and let people realise what a wonderful person you are."

At this, Hermione almost burst into tears again.

"I don't want to see you exasperated just because your fellow first years haven't cottoned on to the fact that you are by far the cleverest witch in your year, and certainly have more common sense than the rest of them put together."

Hermione laughed, choking on her tears, and Professor McGonagall smiled at her. Again.

"Come on," McGonagall said, and gave her another tissue. "Dry those tears and get off to the common room. Or the library, whichever would make you happier." At this, Hermione laughed again, and she got off the desk. "If you ever need anyone to talk to, Miss Granger, my door is always proverbially open. You know where to find me," and with that, Professor McGonagall left the classroom.

Hermione smiled at the door, and muttered, "thank-you". She had finally made a friend. An odd one at that, but a friend indeed.


	5. Tribulations

That evening, Hermione tried to stop Harry and Ron going for their midnight duel, and failed, ending up going with them instead. Finding Fluffy behind the door was one of the most frightening experiences of her life, and hearing Ron and Harry discussing it on the way back made her worry even more. They were likely to lose even more points for Gryffindor, and Hermione couldn't bear to see all her hard earner points go to waste. She shouted at them, and they didn't seem to care about the possibility of being expelled.

A week later, Hermione still wasn't talking to either Ron or Harry. More to the point, Hermione wasn't talking to anyone. The girls in her dormitory now ignored her, not bothering to try to interrupt her late night studying, and they stopped trying to include her in their conversations. Even Neville avoided conversation with her; ever since finding Fluffy, he had been trying not to hold conversations with either her or Harry and Ron, and she didn't blame him.

Breakfast had become a rather solitary and monotonous affair, and while Hermione made every attempt to get there early before everyone else, it sometimes didn't work out that way, and Hermione sat alone on the long benches, sometimes asked to move up so that people could fit in even more of their friends. Gryffindor, home of the brave; Hermione snorted into her cereal - home of the ridiculously unsociable more like. So far, no-one had even tried making friends with her. She supposed it was also partly up to her, but after 19 days, 19 whole days of shortened conversations, people making excuses, and people being downright being rude, Hermione had given up.

It was like being back in junior school again; though as Hermione reasoned to herself, there was only a year's difference, she couldn't expect everyone to have grown up over the holidays. She certainly hadn't changed much; still the ridiculous teeth, the bushy hair turning into a triangle if she tried wearing it down, and she still felt more at home with the smell of old books than with the smell of perfume ruining the dormitory.

After the first full week of term, Hermione had decided that she should stop going to Professor McGonagall every time she was upset. It was silly to think that the woman actually enjoyed her company – for more often than not she was shooed out again in preference for marking papers. She obviously had better things to do than fill 11 year olds with ginger biscuits and tell them it was fine to have no friends, and Hermione didn't want to become a nuisance to the only person who had been solidly kind to her. Granted, no special exceptions were made for her in lessons, but Hermione often thought the comments on her essays were somewhat more helpful than the others got.

_Never mind the other pupils_, she thought to herself, _you are cleverer than they are, and you will do better than they will, and in the end it will be them wishing they'd done something different_. Smiling to herself, she reached under the table to get her bag. She picked up her bag from the floor and put it on the bench next to her, just as she heard the owls start coming in through the tall window. An owl landed on the other side of her bag, and dropped a muggle envelope on the bench, before flying away. It was the owl she had sent the letter to her parents with, detailing all the fun she was having, and all the wonderful new friends she had. She hated lying to her parents, but sending them a letter something akin to "Hello, I'm working myself crazy, not getting much sleep, no-one's talking to me, and I have no friends anyway, see you in December," would not have gone down well. The owl had a letter in its beak, and Hermione took it, putting it in her bag next to an old copy of _The Theory Behind Transfiguration_.

She decided she would read it once she got to her dormitory, and smiled as she swivelled around on the bench to pick up her cup. She had gradually got used to pumpkin juice, but today it seemed to leave a particularly bitter taste on her tongue, and she grimaced as she stood up and walked out of the great hall. She was too busy thinking about her parents to even notice Malfoy and his two "friends" looking at her with gleaming eyes.

She began to feel a funny prickling sensation all over head as she made her way towards History of Magic, and she pulled her robe slightly tighter around her. She arrived at the classroom just as the bells went, and she heard the Great Hall doors bang open a few seconds later, the sound of hundreds of people talking filling the hallways outside the classroom. She picked a seat at the back, seeing as Professor Binns had yet to take a seating plan, and she started getting out her books.

About ten minutes into the lesson, Binns' voice threading through her thoughts like some kind of misplaced sewing machine, she noticed a certain amount of giggling from the row in front of her. She looked up from her notes and glared at the heads of the two Hufflepuffs in front of her, who seemed to be writing notes to each other; not that Binns would have noticed, but never mind. Hermione seemed to be the only one working in the room; everyone else seemed to be enjoying some kind of mass private joke. Lavender and Parvati were trying to keep straight faces, nudging each other and bursting into raucous laughter ever few minutes.

Hermione shook her head just as the she caught sight of one of the Hufflepuffs fall off his chair from silent laughter. Huffing quietly to herself at the immaturity of the rest of her year, she resigned herself to tuning out the rest of the class and writing notes, her grip getting tighter and tighter around her quill. She could feel her cheeks getting blotchy from the paranoia that people were laughing at her, and she almost snapped her quill when she looked up just to see a boy on the other side of the class pointing at her, and then not so subtly pointing somewhere else entirely. His friend looked confused until he looked at Hermione's glare and started hurriedly making notes on a piece of paper.

The end of the lesson couldn't come fast enough for Hermione, and she packed everything up quickly, hoping Snape would be in a good mood today. Hermione's paranoia worsened as soon as she stepped out of the classroom and made her way towards the dungeons. The thick crowds making the corridors seem claustrophobic seemed to open paths for her, and Hermione started to jog down the steps to get away from everyone. It seemed everyone she looked at had a smile on their face, and Hermione was worried she had missed something. The closer she got to the potions lab, the happier the people around her seemed to be, and she smiled as she realised they must have been making cheering potions.

She waited outside the classroom for people to file out, and stood back for the tall and scary-looking fifth formers to file out of the classroom. One of them sniggered as they walked past her, and Hermione entered Snape's lab with a fair amount of trepidation. She looked up at the board only to notice that Snape hadn't wiped last lesson's notes off the board. It wasn't cheering potions; it wasn't even anything to do with that, it was just notes on the theory of potion making. Hoping against hope that for once her paranoia was just taking over her mind, the rest of her class filed in.

Thankfully, she was at the front of the class, but her partner, Neville, seemed almost nervous to sit next to her. He coughed, and looked at her, before looking around the class. He looked at her again, and said, "Hermione, do you know that-" but his sentence was left hanging, for at that moment Snape turned around from the board and glared at them all, mainly Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he intoned silkily, "Whilst we are all aware of your...talents, it does not bode well to parade them about. Especially in such plain sight,"

Hermione, bewildered, looked up at Professor Snape, whose lip was curling in the corner, and whose eyes were shining in some sort of sadistic merriment.

"Whilst, "I have no friends, and I am a know-it-all" does rather sum it up, Miss Granger, next time you feel responsible of informing the rest of us, a simple owl will suffice. Twenty points from Gryffindor for telling us all what we knew already."

The rest of the class was openly laughing at her now, and she turned around to look at them, which only made them laugh harder. "Neville, what's going on?" she asked, voice rising in panic.

Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin poked her in the back, and said, witheringly, "Have a mirror, Granger, see what we see."

Hermione turned around, and in her reflection were, as Snape had intoned, the words "I have no friends, I am a know-it-all" written on her forehead. She gasped and, grabbing her bag, she fled the classroom, the echo of laughter and Snape's "Thirty points from Gryffindor for unauthorised absence," drilling into her head. The tears coursed down her face and she ran up the nearest staircase, and found herself back at the door Harry, Ron, Neville and her had found a week ago. Screaming in frustration at the stairs, she went back down the only staircase leading off from that level and found herself outside a girls' bathroom. Ramming herself into the door, she ran into a stall and locked the cubicle, sitting down and putting her head in her hands.

Her shoulders shook as the tears coursed through her, and she got out her wand to cast a charm removing spell on herself. All the glamours she had made use of after discovering them from her time in the library disappeared with the words on her forehead, and the dark circles under her eyes returned. She calmed herself, reaching into her bag to get out the letter from her parents she had received that morning. Choking out a hiccough, she slit open the muggle envelope and took out the single sheet of normal paper.

"Dear Hermione,

Your mother and I are glad to hear that you are settling in well. We both hope you are not abandoning your studies too much in favour of having fun with your new friends. It's nice to hear that you've made some friends your own age, and that you're not lonely at what sounds like a huge school! Your mother and I have been keeping ourselves busy – we have decided to keep our surgery open on Saturday mornings now, and have had to hire another receptionist! The business is going well, and we are both missing you. We look forward to seeing you at Christmas – you can tell us all about what you and your friends have got up to in the past term.

Unfortunately, your mother was unwilling to send you your present via the owl, so you'll have to wait until Christmas, and we have your presents from family members etc. Double presents at Christmas, though– lucky you! Have a good rest of term, and happy birthday.

Mum + Dad"

Hermione folded the paper, stared at the cubicle wall, and burst into tears again. _You and your friends_, oh the irony.

Almost a month later, Hermione couldn't believe she had now been at this hell-hole for practically two months. Tomorrow would finally be November, and then it was only another 53 days until the end of term. She might be able to make it, all she needed to do was continue being invisible. Staring up at her hangings, Hermione decided to get up at go to Charms. She had ignored the other girls going to breakfast, and now, an hour later, she only had a few minutes until charms. Stomach growling, she grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl beside her bed and hurriedly got changed.

Hermione walked to Charms chewing on her banana, and managed to get there on time, even having an extra hour's sleep. Her good mood quickly vanished, however, when she noticed that the only spare seat was next to Ron. Neither Ron nor Hermione of them looked too happy about it, and she wondered how long it would take Ron to finally grasp how to do whichever spell it was they were doing today.

Hermione zoned out of Flitwick's speech about the theory of the charm, for she had already read it in the library a few nights before. Wingardium Leviosa was one of Hermione's favourites, and she smiled at the memory of finally getting it right two days ago. Dragged out of her dreaming by a particularly wild flailing of arms from Ron, she turned and chastised him for his awful pronunciation.

"You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the "gar" nice and long." His face was turning red, and Harry had turned to look at them from the other table; Ron threw his wand on the table.

"You do it then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled, and Hermione took pleasure in knowing she was better than him in something. She flicked her wand impatiently, and shortly her feather began rising up towards the ceiling. Flitwick noticed, and drew attention to her from the rest of the class, by saying,

"Look here, everyone, Miss Granger's done it!"

Hermione smirked at Ron, who was turning redder by the second. "Stupid know-it-all," she heard him mutter, and her face fell. Know-it-all; that word that had so haunted her in her younger years, and now haunted her here. Hermione couldn't help wanting to know things quickly, wanting to practice things in her spare time, getting her homework in on time. It was who she was. Hermione felt her throat begin to burn from withholding tears, and she growled as Ron continued to pronounce the charm wrong. By the end of the lesson, it was unbearable, and she packed up her bags quickly, hoping to get away and get back to the library to finish her Transfiguration essay.

It didn't stop her ending up behind Ron and Harry and overhearing what they were saying. "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly," Ron said. This was too much for Hermione, and she shoved her way past them. Her tears broke free of their confines, and Harry noticed. Tears now streaming down her face, Hermione broke into a run once she had turned the corner towards the library.

Madam Pince glared at her as she entered the library, crying fiercely with a blotchy face. She made her way towards her table at the back, and collapsed into the armchair by the old transfiguration books. School had quickly turned into a living nightmare. From finding words on her forehead, she had had arguments with both Parvati and Lavender, and they now had a sort of truce; not to talk to each other unless strictly necessary.

Determined to get Ron and everyone else out of her mind, she took out the essay she needed to do by the next lesson, and took out her writing equipment. She would have to write incredibly quickly to get it done in the 20 minute slot allotted for break time, and Hermione tried to rush the essay. She tried to pick up where she had left off, but she had lost the thread of thought and had to start an entirely new paragraph.

After twenty minutes had gone by, Hermione was barely half-way through the essay, and she panicked. She knew that Professor McGonagall would want to see her homework, and since in the past few lessons she had done extremely well, she would be expecting fantastic work. Hermione reasoned that McGonagall would not mind if she was a little bit late for the lesson, if she told her she'd been at the nurse, and so Hermione continued her essay.

It wasn't until later when she finished the essay that Hermione noticed she'd missed not only Transfiguration, but also lunch and the start of Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was horrified, and even though her essay was now the perfect length and full of interesting points, she doubted Professor McGonagall would be happy with her having missed the lesson. She groaned and thwacked her head against the table. She should have just gone to the lesson, and then she could have told Professor McGonagall she had left her homework in the dormitory.

Cursing, Hermione decided that to make up for missing the lesson, she would practice turning pencils into matches. She was sure that McGonagall had told her that that's what they would be doing that lesson. Hermione decided to remain hidden in the library until the end of the day – she had food in her bag, and she didn't want to have to face the other Gryffindors again, especially Ron. She could always tell anyone who asked that she had been at the infirmary, seeing as no one ever made the long walk up there to check.

Getting out her pencils, Hermione got down an old transfiguration textbook from the dusty shelves behind her. Hermione had used this to help her with various pieces of homework, as it explained the spells in more detail. It had been in here that she had learnt the importance of pitch when casting, and so Hermione had stopped trying to whisper-learn spells at night, and instead learnt how to cast a silencing charm bubble.

Casting one such bubble around herself, so as not to disturb anyone else in the library, she began to practice the wand movement needed for the spell. There were various different hints from the book on where to make the most of the wrist flick, and Hermione tried all different variants before settling on the one which her wand seemed to prefer. She looked over the spell itself, and began practising the spell all combined.

Her silencing bubble shattered, she supposed from too much sound absorption, and she waved her wand above her head, mouthing the words and she gave her wand a little flick. Another bubble instantly popped around her, for she had cast the spell so much she no longer needed to actually speak the spell particularly loudly. Her wand seemed to know the motion itself, and Hermione often found herself doing it subconsciously. Concentration zooming back to the old transfiguration textbook and the pencil in front of her, she didn't notice what was going on around her.

Professor McGonagall, who had been both angry and concerned by not seeing Hermione in her class, had gone to the Gryffindor common room and up to the dormitories to try and find her. Not finding her there, and not seeing her at lunch had replaced her anger with concern, for she assumed that Hermione must then be at the infirmary. Talking to Madame Pomfrey, the woman hadn't seen Hermione all day or even at all that term, and Professor McGonagall was close to giving up, when it was from there that she noticed the lights on at the back of the library, and she marched her way there.

Getting to the desk, she asked Madam Pince how long Hermione had been there. Madam Pince looked stunned, and said, "Miss Granger? I'm sure I don't know a Miss Granger."

"Of course you do. She must be in her a lot – short, first year, oversized bag with too much weight in it for her own good, brown hair, bushy…" at this, Madam Pince nodded, and turned to put books on the shelf behind her.

"Oh her, yes, I know her. I thought she went to her lesson, or at the very least, lunch. I haven't heard a sound from her corner. In that case she's been in here since break time, making a terrible racket when she first came in, face red from too much running around no doubt. Slammed her bag on the desk and I had to remind her of the silence rule." Professor McGonagall was confused. Hermione, running around? The last time she had seen Hermione running was when she was crying, but that couldn't be right.

Concern peaking, she walked towards the back, where even though the lights were on, there was no sound. As she walked through between the aisles of Transfiguration books and the Charms books, she spotted Hermione with her back to her at a desk. She seemed to be doing things with her wand, and she had rather a lot of old books around her. Professor McGonagall recognised one as _The Standard Guide to Improving Transfiguration_, which McGonagall had made much use of in her years at Hogwarts. She knew that the book promoted loud spell work, and waved her own wand to detect which spells were in the area.

Besides the usual anti-theft devices on the books, and protections from straying ink, there was a strong link to Hermione connected with a silencing charm. Impressed, but still concerned about how Hermione had missed her lesson for no apparent reason, she broke the charm, hearing the end of Hermione's spell. "-lamorphus". It sounded like the end of what the rest of the first years had been covering in their lesson. She moved forward to confront Hermione, but Hermione's hand appeared over her own head and it flicked, with what looked like the speed of a lot of practice, and McGonagall could no longer hear what was happening. Another detecting spell and McGonagall saw the same silencing spell in place.

"She's a first year, casting a silencing spell... well!" She stood and watched Hermione from the back, eager to see what she would do next, and witnessed Hermione do a little dance when she had finally transformed her pencil into a needle. Professor McGonagall broke her silencing spell, and before Hermione could cast another one, said, "Well done, Miss Granger."

A very pale looking Hermione turned around in her seat and seemed too stunned to speak. "Professor McGonagall!" She seemed unable to make any other utterances, looked terrified, and Professor McGonagall smiled inwardly as she portrayed an angry exterior.

"Indeed, Miss Granger, it is I. Do you not think it prudent at this moment in time to inform me of why you were not in my lesson; more to the point, why you do not seem keen to get to your next one? It is not like you."

"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, I've, I mean, I wasn't at your lesson because, well," Hermione turned to the desk, and picked up her essay, turning around and saying brightly, "I have your essay!"

Hermione's face fell slightly as Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow and went to take another seat at the table. She took the essay and rolled it up without looking at it, still staring at Hermione. "I'm still waiting for an explanation, Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at her desk and started closing up her textbooks. "I didn't want to go to your lesson without an essay, and so I stayed in here until I had finished it, and I only noticed the time a few minutes ago, and...well – aren't you going to look at my essay?" Her face red, Hermione turned to look at Professor McGonagall, whose angry exterior was being broken by the grin threatening to break out.

"I do not need to look at your essay, Miss Granger, to know that it far exceeds the standard of those I started to mark before I came to find you," Hermione smiled and fiddled with her quill, as McGonagall continued. "However, you have come to a lesson without an essay before, Miss Granger, and you know that I would not have thrown you in detention for such a trifle matter. I'm sure you have a better reason for having missed my lesson and why you do not seem too keen to get to – is it Defence Against the Dark Arts now?"

Hermione nodded, and she sighed, looking up into the very concerned emerald orbs of Professor McGonagall, "I'm sorry, professor, it's just, there's been a bit of tension between me and the other first years, and I had a bit of an argument this morning, and...well, I didn't feel up to facing them just yet."

McGonagall smiled sympathetically, and started saying, "Friend troubles then, well I'm sure you can sort-"

Hermione looked up at her incredulously, and interrupted. "Friend troubles? I don't have any friends, professor, and if I did, it certainly wouldn't be with Ron. He made it perfectly clear in charms how he thought of me." Her throat began to ache again, and she wondered whether she had any tissues in her bag.

"Mr Weasley? Why, what has he done, said to you?"

"He didn't say anything directly to me; I would have been able to cope with that, I could have hexed his stupid face. No, after the lesson he was talking about me with Harry. He- he called me a know-it-all, and I know that that's what I seem like some of the time, but that's what I came here to get away from, and all I was doing was showing him how to make his stupid feather float." A single tear slid its way down her cheek, and Hermione brushed it away angrily,

"No-one likes being called a know-it-all, and I can see how it would get to you, especially what happened to you on the first few weeks of term."

"You mean the 19th, Professor? With the Slytherins and their message on my face?" Her voice bitter with the memories, she stared back down at the table and ran her nail along one of the grooves in the wood.

"My, you do have a good memory for dates,-"

Hermione looked up, interrupting her, "One does tend to remember what happens on ones birthday, Professor," Hermione stared through McGonagall, wanting her to understand what she had been through.

"Your...it was your birthday?" Hermione nodded, trying to hold back tears from the memories, and McGonagall seemed at a loss for what to say. "That is...unfortunate."

Hermione pursed her lips, and pushed her nail further into the grooves into the table, making horrible grinding sounds, and Professor McGonagall winced. "Miss Granger, you must- of for goodness sakes, what has the table ever done to you?" With that, she leaned forwards from her chair, encased Hermione's cold hand with her own, stopping the movement.

"Stop destroying the tables." She looked up at Hermione, still with her hand over hers, and continued. "There's no use dwelling on what's happened already, it's time to accept yourself for who you are. I have told you, and will tell you time and time again until you start to believe anyone who says it, that you are a highly intelligent witch. You may make excuses, that you only read ahead and that it doesn't really make you clever, but you made that choice to learn. There will always be those who look down on you for wanting to learn, but it is your job to show them that you are above them." She took her hand off Hermione's, and folded her arms on the table, trying to make eye contact with her.

The bell went off in the distance, and Professor McGonagall looked up along the aisles of the library. "Time for dinner, Miss Granger, I'm sure you must be hungry by now, having missed lunch." She tried to keep a stern face, but Hermione's stomach let out a huge growl, and they both laughed. Professor McGonagall stood up and started to walk out of the library, but Hermione called out to her,

"You're too kind to me, Professor McGonagall-"

"Nonsense, there's no such thing," retorted Professor McGonagall, and she smiled, but waved her finger at Hermione, "But mark my words, I'll avoid kindness if I find out you've been skipping lessons just because of something some narrow minded idiot has said to you. No more skipping meals either, too many girls fall into **that** habit too young."

Hermione grinned at her, and began to pack up her things. Putting her bag over her shoulders, she made her way towards a bathroom at the end of the corridor, and she could still hear the noise from the great hall. It suddenly rose, and Hermione smiled to herself, hoping to get to the feast before the main meal disappeared. She heard the great hall's doors bang open, and smiled again as she realised she wouldn't be the only one late to the feast.

Once in the bathroom, Hermione couldn't hear anything from the Great Hall. She didn't hear the screaming, the yelling, or Dumbledore's cries from the front. She didn't hear the cries to get back to their dormitories, and she didn't hear the warnings about the troll. What she did hear, however, was the main door to the bathroom open, and what sounded like a wheelbarrow being scraped along the ground. Hermione opened her mouth to ask who it was, but caught a full waft of the most awful smell she had ever encountered. It rivalled the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, and smelled like a cross between old socks and the kind of public toilet that never gets cleaned.

Her hand in front of her nose, and wrenching open the door to ask whoever it was what on earth they were doing, she suddenly stopped. Eyes bulging over the view now in front of her, a huge troll now stood in front of her, sniffing and looking around. In the few seconds it took Hermione to process the fact that she was now unlikely to get out the bathroom alive, she heard the click in the lock, and she screamed.

The troll, startled by her noise, walked towards her, brushing against the sinks on one side of the wall. She walked backwards, away from it, but soon found herself against the wall. She heard the door open again, and two pairs of footsteps joined the snarling, snorting sounds of the troll. Terrified, and feeling as though she was about to faint, Hermione tore her gaze from the troll, towards Harry, who threw a tap at the troll's head. The troll stopping mere feet from Hermione, looked around stupidly. It turned around fully and raised its club, now advancing on Harry.

Ron, from the other side of the massive chamber, yelled at it and threw a pipe at the troll. It paused again, and Hermione gaped at it, barely noticing Harry, who was trying to prise her away from the wall. She barely registered him yelling at her, but gaped again as the troll made its way towards Ron. As much as she hated the boy, she didn't want him dead, and was about to scream again when Harry ran at the troll, throwing himself onto its back and launching forwards, inadvertently sticking his wand up its nose.

Hermione in disbelief and still completely terrified, sank to the floor, and registered Ron's voice yelling "Wingardium Leviosa!" She watched as the troll's club flew out of its hand, raised high into the air, turned over and dropped with a sickening crunch onto the troll's head. She gasped, and it fell flat on its face, shaking the whole room. She whimpered, and said, "Is it...dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, and stared at his wand, "Just knocked out. Eurgh, troll bogies," he said, and wiped it on the troll's trousers. A sudden slamming of the door made them all turn to look at the doorway, where Professor McGonagall burst in, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrel bringing up the rear. Snape bent over the troll, and Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry with fury etched on her face. Hermione had never seen anyone look so angry, and she suspected it was not just because of the troll. Her lips were white with tension, and in a cold voice she asked them all what on earth they were thinking of.

Hermione didn't think she'd been noticed, still crouched by the wall on the other side of the wall. She seized the chance to make a good impression on Ron and Harry, and stood up, "Please, Professor McGonagall, they were looking for me."

McGonagall stared at her, aghast, and Hermione could see her working out how long she had left Hermione for, and whether it was plausible that Hermione could have-

"I went looking for the troll, because I-" here Hermione panicked. Why on earth would she have gone after a troll? The words _know-it-all_ echoed in her head, and she continued, "I thought I could deal with it on my own – because I've read all about them."

McGonagall didn't look too convinced.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron fought to wipe off their disbelieving expressions as McGonagall glared at them. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own? Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for a **serious** lack of judgement. I'm very disappointed in you, but if you're not hurt, you should get to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

She left the bathroom, smiling as she ran towards Gryffindor tower. Hermione decided to wait for them by the door, and see if now they would make friends with her, and after a few moments, Harry and Ron entered. There was an embarrassing silence until they all said, "Thanks," and hurried off to sit down. For the first evening that term, Hermione had a proper conversation – chatting to Harry and Ron by the fire, and they all parted on good terms. Hermione hoped that now they were friends, and that the rest of her term wouldn't be too awful.

Trudging up to bed, Hermione felt satisfied that she had discovered friendship. She walked over to her bed, about to flop onto it, when she noticed her book bag on top of it with a note. The note was magically sealed, and Hermione opened it to find a note for her. It said-

"I believe this is yours, it would be prudent to not leave it about in abandoned bathrooms, especially when it contains such old books. Five points back to Gryffindor for reading ahead of your own accord."

Hermione smiled to herself, pleased that her points had been given back to her, and she leaned back on the bed, trying to hold back a happy laugh. She didn't even need to continue reading to know that it read-

"Yours Sincerely,

Professor McGonagall"

...in emerald green ink.


	6. Christmas

Hermione now had friends in Ron and Harry, and the weeks seemed shorter now that she no longer dreaded waking up every morning. She was glad that by the time Christmas came around, she wouldn't have to lie to her parents about having friends. Granted all she had to do was follow them around and offer some advice on which book would have their answers, but Hermione was glad that they didn't call her a know-it-all any more.

A week ago in mid-December, Hermione had woken up with a great deal of surprise, finding half of Hogwarts" grounds were covered in several feet of snow. The corridors were draughty, and in Potions their breath rose in front of them in little clouds. Hermione seemed to be the only one still excited every time it snowed, and this morning was no different.

Chucking her covers as far away from her as possible, and running towards the window to lean on the window seat, Hermione threw open the window and stuck her head out as far as she possibly could. She looked up, and all she could see was deep grey clouds dispersing endless streams of snow. The window ledge already had quite a thick layer of snow on it, and Hermione could see the grounds were covered in a layer of the pristine flakes.

"Hermioneee," groaned Parvati from the bed nearest the window, "close that bloody window, it's freezing in here."

Scowling at what Hermione perceived to be an inappropriate language choice, she grumbled and slammed the window shut. Sitting back down on her heels, she looked back into the dormitory. Everyone else was burrowing back into their duvets, and she shook her head despairingly. Who could miss watching the first snow? Who cared if it snowed a lot here, it was still snow!

She leant forward against the panes, wondering if she could sneak the window open again without Parvati noticing a sudden chill. She raised her hand to the window latch, turning it slowly whilst watching Parvati, ready to stop if she stirred from her sleep again. The latch creaked slightly and Hermione glanced at it, hoping it wouldn't screech as she opened the window fully.

Turning back to look at Parvati, she opened the window as quietly as she possibly could, going ridiculously slowly so the window wouldn't make strange noises as the seal broke. Almost there, and Hermione could feel the chill on her lower arm, and see that the snowflakes were coming down even faster than they were before. She felt the window give way, and looked out the window to see-

"WHAM!"

Hermione screamed in terror and surprise, and let the window bang back against the frame as she leapt back into the alcove so hard she hit her elbow.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Granger?" shouted Parvati, springing up from under her covers looking like she was about to kill someone. "I've had just about enough of you," and she stormed off to the bathroom.

Hermione cringed, getting back up to open the window and let the owl in. She shivered as the snow started melting on her pyjamas, and took the letter from the owl. "I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you flying towards me. Sorry about her too," she pointed at Parvati's bed, "She's only annoyed because she's just realised she's well surpassed the stage of "beauty sleep" and now her last hope is for plastic surgery." She giggled to herself, and the owl stared at her, totally expressionless. "Never mind. Why you couldn't have waited until breakfast I'll never know."

The owl hooted at her, before flying out the window again, and Hermione slammed it shut, jumping into bed to warm up again. Recognising the thick parchment, she took her letter opener from her top drawer and slit open the envelope. Grinning at the emerald ink, she unfolded the parchment.

"Miss Granger,

Please see me in my office after your evening meal tonight.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor McGonagall"

Heart pounding for no apparent reason, Hermione frowned as she re-read the note again. Glancing at the wall calendar to check, she noted there was only one day left of term, and today was the last day of lessons. Happy again, she put the note on her bedside-table and stood up in front of her dresser. With both doors open, and two reflections scrutinising her, Hermione leafed through her hangers. It had become normal to find robes cleaned and hung up in the cupboard in the morning, even if they had been left in a wet, soapy heap in the bathroom. Ignoring the fact that she had another hour or so until lessons, she changed and walked down to breakfast, somehow timing it perfectly with Ron and Harry coming down the boy's staircase.

Five hours later, in Herbology, Hermione kept looking at her watch, hoping the minutes until the end of the lesson would come sooner. She had spent all day waiting for it all to be over, for she was worrying about what Professor McGonagall had to talk to her about. All through Potions, her mind had been on the meeting, and had almost missed Neville trying to add bat's eyes to the potion two steps too early. Goodness knows what Professor Snape would have done to them.

"Now, everyone, your Fiducia from last lesson should have at least started sprouting by now. Please take note of the height of each of your growths, and draw up a table..."

Hermione zoned out, staring at her pot of dirt in front of her. She wondered how she was going to measure the tiny sprout in front of her, barely poking through the dirt. She now knew Herbology was never going to be her strong point. Hermione only had to look over at Neville's plant to feel disheartened. His had grown almost two foot, and even looked like it was trying to sprout flowers in the middle of winter.

She sighed and looked down at her little sprout, wondering why there were such subjects you couldn't learn everything from books. No wonder Neville was so good at it, she thought to herself. He had talent, while she had to study for everything. Her head in her hands, she tuned back into Professor Sprout saying, "So remember to measure from the bottom of the root, not the bottom of your ruler, else you'll miss out on those vital millimetres!"

As if it would make much difference. She drew out the table, getting generally more annoyed. She leant back in her chair and shoved her hands in her pockets, glaring at her little pot. Something scrunched in her hand, and she drew out a piece of paper. It was her note from Professor McGonagall from when she had been locked in with the troll. She smiled as she read it over again. A happy feeling bubbled up inside her as she remembered all the nice things McGonagall had said about her.

She didn't notice the plant grow in front of her, steadily at first, and then faster as Hermione continued thinking about her new friends. She grinned, but looked up sharply as she felt something crawling along her arm. It was her plant, which had suddenly sprouted so quickly it was leaning towards her. She stuffed the letter into her pocket, and watched as the plant halted its growth. Hermione stood up, gaping at the plant.

"Now, everyone, this is the kind of progress I want to see from all of you," Professor Sprout's voice broke into her thoughts, as she noticed the Professor was standing behind her and Neville. She swivelled around to see Sprout pointed at her and Neville's plants, explaining she wanted exactly the same result from everyone else in the room. Hermione gaped again.

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione asked Professor Sprout at the end of the lesson, "I really don't understand these plants, at the beginning of the lesson it was really tiny, and I don't know what happened but the next time I looked, it had grown so much and-"

Professor Sprout lifted her hand to stop Hermione's chattering. "The Fiducia feed on the confidence of witches and wizards around them, when there is enough of it in the area. I asked you to plant your seeds individually so that the plant would assign itself to each of you. Whenever you feel confident, or very happy, the plant will grow on it. Frustration will stunt its growth, so be wary of it, Miss Granger." She smiled mysteriously and disappeared amongst the other plants. "Shouldn't you be going to another lesson?" her voice rose from the undergrowth. Hermione ran to History of Magic.

"...Boris the Brave, died, in 756, in his place, Eap the Eager, took, the place, but, the succession, was not, a smooth, one; two, other, nobles, claimed the crown; Hardnon the Hairy, and Willmarth the Weak..."

Hermione scribbled away, trying to find some interest in the facts being spurted out from Professor Binns. She had discovered in the first week that if she just concentrated on writing down everything possible, it didn't matter how boring it was. Besides, Professor Binns took so long between words she could get his lectures down verbatim, which made revising so much easier.

"While, Willmarth, gathered a fleet, and waited, for favourable winds, to, sail, across the Channel, to the south coast, Hardnon gathered, an invasion, force, in the north..."

She glanced up at the clock and realised there were only two minutes left. Everyone else in the classroom was either asleep or doodling. Harry and Ron seemed past all consciousness, and she elbowed Ron in the stomach whilst scribbling down what Binns had said next.

"The very, winds, that, kept Willmarth, waiting, in Normandy, helped, speed, Herndon's fleet of long ships, across the sea. To, support him, he, had, the exiled brother, of Junix, the Jumpy, who died in 812..."

Ron grunted and looked up, squinting and glaring at Hermione at the same time, while Binns droned on. Hermione kept taking notes, trying to listen to both Ron and Binns at the same time.

"Why'd'ye hit me in the stomach? S'not over yet s'it?"

Hermione paused in her writing for a moment to glare at Ron, mixed with a fair portion of disdain. "It might help you to actually listen in lessons, and then maybe you wouldn't have to copy up my notes all the time." She flicked her quill back into the ink and continued writing.

"Hardnon sailed, from, Norway, to the mouth of, the, Rynz, where, he joined, with Tostig the Turgid. Tostig, claimed, the Earldom of Nargringe, and, was, quite, ready to, support, Hardnon in his invasion in return for help in gaining the Earldom." The bell went, and Binns abruptly stopped droning.

"Thank Merlin," said Ron, poking Harry in the side and picking up his bag, which he hadn't even opened at the start of the lesson.

"We will, continue, this, next term, eh?" Binns said, before floating up towards the staffroom.

Ron shook his head and turned to find Hermione glaring at him again. "What?"

"MOVE!" said Hermione, gesturing behind him, at the row of people waiting to get out the classroom.

"Oh right," he muttered, shuffling out to the end of the row.

"I still think we should check the restricted section." Ron reached to get the chicken from next to Harry, who glared at him as he took the last one.

"We need permission for that, Ron, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Ron took the last spoon of potatoes just as Harry took them, and so he lunged to get the bowl next to Parvati.

"Honestly, Ron! Harry's sure he's seen the name before, aren't you Harry?"

"Uh, yeah?" He looked up sheepishly from his potato escapade, not entirely sure what Hermione was talking about. Ron pulled a face at her, and they turned quickly to the conversation at hand.

"So it must be somewhere unrestricted...oh this is so frustrating!" Hermione poured gravy all over her meal and stared at it. Her gravy not revealing answers, she poked it with her fork, scowling. Ron and Harry looked at each other, before Harry said,

"You alright?"

Hermione looked up, caught out from her thoughts, and said, "Eh? Oh, yes, yes, fine, fine, just it's so frustrating having information so close and yet so far..." Ron looked confused, and the conversation changed to talking about Christmas presents. Hermione was planning on her parents taking her to Diagon Alley so she could get magical presents for Harry and Ron, and she might be able to find something for her parents as well. Having no friends from the muggle world certainly made Christmas a lot simpler.

"Chocolate frogs?" she muttered to herself, trying to work out what to get two male friends for Christmas. They both looked up instantly, saying,

"Where?" very quickly, so Hermione smiled to herself and made a mental note to get two large boxes of them for the boys.

"Anyway, I have to go, McGonagall's gone already, and I said I'd see her after dinner, so I'll see you later. Oh my goodness, I have to pack as well – we're leaving tomorrow!" She fled before either of them could question her, and she ran up to the second floor without stopping.

Arriving outside McGonagall's rooms, Hermione stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Hermione wished she knew how to make a calming draught, but it was far too advanced at the moment. She took a deep breath and lifted her hand to knock on the solid wood before her. It was not long before the door opened and Hermione found herself in front of Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall stated, smiling slightly.

"Er, hi," said Hermione, wondering why on earth she was there.

"Please, come in, and have a seat." She left Hermione at the door to walk to her desk, and Hermione took a moment to collect herself before sitting down on the wooden seat, wondering what she'd managed to do wrong for Professor McGonagall to call her to her office. "This is not a formal meeting, Miss Granger, you can relax," McGonagall said, as if she has read Hermione's mind.

"Right," she said, still not entirely convinced.

"I called you here to discuss your first term at Hogwarts. I am aware there were some...problems in your first few weeks, and I just wanted to make sure you were alright now."

Hermione smiled and said, "Problems, Professor? I was bullied outright for wanting to learn."

"But you're not anymore?"

"Oh no, I now have Ron and Harry for...friends, so I'm fine, thanks."

"You paused when you said friends, is there something you want to tell me about them?"

Hermione sighed and looked down at her hands. "No, it's fine, really, I guess I'm not quite used to having friends, I'm not sure what to do."

"Just so long as you keep your studies up, friends can't damage who you are."

"I know that, I just sometimes feel alienated."

Professor McGonagall looked closely at her, before asking, "Alienated? In what way?"

"When they talk about Quidditch, I just don't understand how they can like it so much."

"They both play the sport, granted therefore they will gain more enjoyment out of watching a match. I used to dislike watching matches, but soon after I started playing myself, I enjoyed them far more."

"You played Quidditch?" asked Hermione, looking up incredulously.

"Don't sound so surprised, Miss Granger, I was young once."

Hermione laughed at that, and said, "You're hardly old, Professor."

Professor McGonagall smiled at her. "I'm glad you think so, but tell me, is there anything else about Ron and Harry that worries you?"

Hermione frowned. "Only that they're not worried about their studies at all. They refuse to acknowledge that we have exams at the end of the year, and they don't even do all their homework."

"Of that I am aware, Miss Granger."

"But they don't even care! They spend all their time mucking around in the common room, talking or playing Wizard's chess and they don't even care that they have essays due in!"

"Keeping the balance between work and play is a difficult thing to do, Miss Granger, one that many people never learn. Mind, working all the time is not good for you either. By all means research as much as you like, but take time out to relax as well, I'm sure you'll do well in your exams."

"So I've heard," Hermione said, smiling wryly and standing up. "I must go, Professor McGonagall, I still have all my packing to do before leaving tomorrow morning, and I don't want to leave anything behind."

Professor McGonagall stood up as well, leading Hermione towards the door, "Very well, try not to work yourself too hard over Christmas. Knowing you, you'll spend most of it with your nose buried in a book of some sorts, but try to relax as well. Merry Christmas, Miss Granger," and with that she shut the door on her, leaving Hermione stranded but smiling in a little known section of the fourth floor corridor.

"Hermione! Over here, honey!"

Hermione's father stood a little way off to the side in King's Cross station, being held back by her mother, who looked more than a little embarrassed by her husband. Hermione waved to Neville, who didn't notice, having being smothered by his grandmother the moment he stepped out from the brick wall.

Hermione looked over, trying not to grin as she noticed the discomfort her mother was in. 12 days of Christmas holidays, no doubt being forced to talk to relatives who didn't even know she had any special powers, let alone the fact that she was at Hogwarts, and not the muggle boarding school her parents had told them she was at. She sighed, and started lugging her trunk towards her parents.

She knew she should be excited about being home with her parents, but everything just seemed so uninteresting in the muggle world. She knew that at home she could not use magic, which meant having to remember to turn on lights by the switches and no silencing charms for homework late at night. She would have to get used to going to bed when her parents wanted her to, instead of being able to sit and talk to people, or research magic.

She sighed and stared out of the window as London slowly disappeared from view, and she half wished she'd assigned herself to stay at school with Ron and Harry. She knew her parents would never understand, they'd been so excited seeing Hermione, and now they were talking non-stop about who they'd be seeing over the holiday, and what exciting things they would do. She shook her head and stared forward at her parents. She shouldn't be thinking like this, she should be glad to be home with her parents. Besides, she had all her birthday and Christmas presents to look forward to!

Hermione grinned and looked out the window again, watching even more of the motorway speed by. A few hours later, they arrived home, by which time it was already dark. She followed her Dad up the stairs to her room, and gasped as she went in. He turned around, sheepishly, and said, "We thought when you were away would be a good time to decorate your room. I hope you like it, love." He looked worried, and Hermione was just lost for words.

The original floor-to-ceiling sliding windows seemed to be the only things that had remained the same – for part of the ceiling had been knocked through, and new beams put up. There was now a metal spiral staircase leading up to a mezzanine. She ran up the staircase. Two of the corner walls were now entirely made up of floor-to-ceiling built in shelving, and the third wall had another window. The seats below the window also seemed to be new, and when Hermione sat down on one, she sank in slightly, grinning. She looked to her right over the edge down at her dad, who had now been joined by her mum.

Her mother looked up at her and smiled, then said, "Happy Birthday, and Merry Christmas for the rest of your life," and laughed.

Hermione laughed too, and ran back down the stairs, hugging both her parents. "No wonder you couldn't send it to me at school! I love it, thank you so much!" She grinned and turned all the way around standing in the middle of her room, looking up at the ceiling beams.

"We thought it would keep us occupied whilst you were away, and give you a nice surprise when you came back home," her father said, still smiling at her. "Why don't we go downstairs and you can tell us both all about school and all your friends," Hermione smiled at that, and they all walked downstairs.

The next few days went by pretty quickly – Hermione and her parents went into London to buy Christmas presents, and Hermione went to Diagon Alley for Harry and Ron. She bought Harry a large box of chocolate frogs, and bought Ron a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. She sent them from the post office, seeing as she didn't have an owl of her own, and she smiled as she passed the parcels over. She bought a few sweets for herself as well, and disguised them in a bookshop bag so that her parents wouldn't be too disappointed with her for eating sweets.

Late Christmas Eve found her wrapping her parents' presents with her light on in her lower room, sitting on the bed facing the large window. She had bought her mother a manicure set, and her father a series of books by his favourite author, so it didn't take long to wrap everything. Her mother had asked her to tidy her room, and as Hermione looked around, she realised why. Even though Hermione was quite a neat person, coming back from a school where things always found themselves where they belonged did nothing for self-preservation. Books were scattered across her desk, and different wrapping papers were cluttering the floor by the bed. She put the finished presents at the end of the bed, and stood up to survey her table – for that was where she would need the most space for starting revision after Christmas.

Chocolate frog cards and wrappers were strewn across the desk, and Hermione decided to pin them up on her wall. It would give her someone to talk to when she became lonely in her room, anyhow. Picking up this morning's eaten stack from her desk, she looked through them, noting down the interesting facts in her diary. There was one card near the bottom of the pile, which seemed to be grumbling more than the others, and when she looked at the picture she was almost certain she knew who it was. Unsurprisingly, when she turned over the card, it said:

Salazar Slytherin

Medieval (Dates unknown)

One of the four founders of Hogwarts

school of witchcraft and wizardry,

Salazar Slytherin was one of the first

recorded parselmouths, an accomplished

legillimens and a notorious champion

of pureblood supremacy.

When she turned the card back over, he sneered at her and vanished, leaving the blank card in her hand. Hermione shrugged, picking up a pin to tack it to her notice board above her bed. The others were more interesting – Artemisia Lufkin, the first female Minister for Magic in the 1700s grinned up at Hermione, waving. Gondoline Oliphant seemed nervous, and tried to get out the frame as quickly as possible before being seen. Hermione caught sight of a few scrolls and quills of the troll researcher before he vanished, and she pinned him up on the board as well.

Midnight passed as she quickly pinned the rest of them up in order of birth along the top of her notice board. She turned back to her desk to pick up all her school books to put onto one of the new bookshelves up the stairs. She smiled at the new additions to the shelf, and walked to the large window to close the curtains. As she did so, she noticed an owl flying towards her, and she slid open one of them. She recognised it as one of the school owls, and worried, wondering whether Harry and Ron could possibly have found themselves in trouble so quickly.

However, it wasn't bad news, and in fact, it was carrying a large package. The owl hopped in through the window so that Hermione could shut the window, and she sat down on her bed to rip off the brown paper. The paper fell away, and she was left with a box covered in gold coloured wrapping paper, and a cream envelope with her name on. It was written on in familiar emerald green ink. She quickly read the card and put it carefully on her desk before turning to the paper and ribbon. The shiny gold paper fell away as Hermione pulled away the ribbon, and she was left holding two large leather-bound books. Before looking at the spine of one, she lifted it to her face and smelled it. It smelled like a mixture of old book and a lingering smell of ginger, and Hermione smiled deeply. She turned the first on its spine and promptly laughed aloud. It read, in gold lettering, _The Rules and History of Quidditch_.

She pulled the book towards her stomach, hugging it as she grinned to herself. She placed it on her bedside table, grabbed some paper, and scribbled a quick thank you. She gave it to the owl and opened the window for it, watching it fly off into the distance. She climbed into bed, staring at the book and she grinned again. Hermione reached over to turn off the light.

"Merry Christmas, Professor McGonagall".

Christmas morning soon arrived, and Hermione launched out of her room to be greeted by a lumpy Christmas stocking outside her door. Grabbing it and going back into her bedroom, she closed the door behind her. She jumped onto her bed, still holding her stocking, and emptied it onto the bed. Sorting through them, she started to open them, and in turning to put an orange on the desk, she noticed the book from the previous evening. In all the excitement of seeing _The Rules and History of Quidditch_ she had abandoned the other book inside in her haste. She picked it up and turned it on its side. Frowning at the unmarked spine, she turned the book over in hope of seeing something on either of the covers. Curious, she went to flick through the book, only finding that none of the pages would turn. Hermione tried in vain to turn any of the pages but they wouldn't budge, so she put it back on the desk to stare at it.

Frustrated, she changed and went downstairs, where her parents were already eating breakfast. By lunchtime, Hermione was beginning to wonder whether it would have been better to have stayed at school with her new friends, but she chided herself for wanting to be away from her family at Christmas. The ornaments had already been up by the time she had arrived home, and for a moment, she felt like a bit of an outsider. Hermione hoped that while she was away, the boys were trying to figure out who Nicholas Flamel was, but she suspected that today of all days they would be relaxing. She looked behind her just as she heard her dad's camera click, and she raised her eyebrow at him.

"I just wanted a photo, that's all. With you away all the time, I want solid memories of when you are here."

She shook her head and looked back at the presents. There were still a lot to go, and while she suspected that most of the book-shaped ones were for her, it was still exciting. The rest of the Christmas holidays went well, but even by the end of it, Hermione could still not open or understand the mysterious book. Frustrated and a little peeved, she decided to take it to Hogwarts and see if she could solve it using the library. She packed up all her new books, and took her trunk downstairs. She looked towards the living room doors, behind which she could hear her parents watching a television programme. Smiling and going upstairs to bed, Hermione wondered how it was that a family could be split between two different worlds.

Waving goodbye to her parents the next day, Hermione walked through the wall separating King's Cross with Platform 9 3/4 to see the shiny red train yet again. She left her trunk with the others and found an empty carriage to sat down to read _The Rules and History of Quidditch_. Absorbed in her book, she didn't notice when Neville joined her, or even when the trolley went past with sweets. She finished the large tome and smiled, looking up at a very bored-looking Neville.

"I think we're getting close, I'm going to change," he said, and walked out, leaving Hermione alone again. She set it down onto the seat beside her and drew the blinds on the door. It was now dark outside and Hermione could see the street lights had stopped flashing past. Any remnants of society had long gone, and she knew it wouldn't be long until the forests, lakes and mountains of the surroundings came into view. As she drew the blind for the window, she set her wand on the seat and brought down her robes. She resisted the temptation to see what her hair would look like in a McGonagall-esque bun, and stuck to a bushy ponytail. Smoothing down her robes, she replaced her wand in her pocket. She beamed at _The Rules and History of Quidditch_ and picked it from the seat just as the train pulled to a stop.

"Can't leave you behind, can I? That wouldn't do, would it?" she said to it, tucking it into her other bags as carefully as she could whilst still walking.

"Talking to your books, Granger?" came a familiar drawl from behind her, synonymous with the pale, blond Slytherin. She decided to ignore him and kept walking, trying to ignore the itch in her hand wanting to draw her wand. She knew it was futile and that she would only be told off for fighting, so she faced forwards.

"I suppose it's the closest thing to company a nobody like you can get really, and I'm not surprised. Who would want to befriend a bushy-haired know-it-all anyway?"

She snarled and walked closer to the door, ignoring the shoving from behind her. She stepped off the train as soon as she could when it stopped, thankful to be able to walk away from him, his snotty voice still behind her.

"What are you reading _The Rules and History of Quidditch_ for, Granger?" came his voice again, and Hermione frowned, anger filling her as she realised he had stolen it from her.

"How dare you? That's mine!" she hissed, whirling around to grab the book from him. She barely finished her sentence before someone behind Malfoy plucked it from his grasp. A certain, tall, bun-haired, emerald-robed someone.

"Mr Malfoy. Twenty points from Slytherin for taking a fellow students property without consent."

Draco scowled and walked off, bumping her shoulder as he went. Hermione turned back to see Professor McGonagall holding out her book with a smile. All horrible thoughts about Draco melted away as she looked up and took her book back.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall,"

"No need for thanks, Miss Granger, bullying is not tolerated in or around Hogwarts,"

she smiled and went to round up the other first years, leaving Hermione grinning at her back, holding her precious book in her arms. Neville now standing next to her, they walked to the boats and towards another term at Hogwarts.


	7. Riddles

With the first easiest term out of the way, and the boys worrying about what Fluffy was guarding, Hermione found herself in the library even more often than usual. Walking in one day, she found Madame Pince glaring at her and shoving a piece of paper into her hands. She glanced down, confused. The piece of parchment read:

'Name of Pupil: Hermione Granger

Length Overdue: 1 week

Title of Book Overdue: The History of Alchemy [Volume II]'

Hermione gasped. This hardly ever happened, and she ran out of the library to her dorm. She knew from experience that she had until the end of the day before the book started cursing her and releasing ink over everything. Reaching her dorm, she found the book under her bed, which was why she had forgotten about it. The shiny title glinted back at her and as she picked it up a couple of the pages fell out. Opening the book to put them back again, she remembered she had marked the interesting pages, and set to find a notepad to write down the interesting facts. She usually did this with textbooks so that she didn't have to keep going back to them.

She didn't even notice anything amiss when she started writing, "The only stone in existence belongs to Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist," and only remembered the significance later when Harry gave Neville a chocolate frog with Dumbledore on the front. Having written the name only hours before, Hermione ran up to the dorms again to retrieve the still-overdue book to show them all.

Leaving the boys, Hermione scurried back to the library to return the book. Madame Pince was nowhere to be seen, so she went to look for her. She heard Malfoy talking to his friends about learning curses in one section, and quickly moved on. Madame Pince was stacking shelves with her wand, and Hermione felt herself staring. Sometimes she forgot how useful magic was, and so found this use of a simple charm quite surprising. Feeling the young witches eyes on her, Madame Pince turned to look at her.

"Yes?" the witch said, gratingly.

"I've brought back an overdue book for you. I didn't want to leave it on the desk in case you couldn't find it, and – "

"Just give me the book," Madame Pince interrupted, grabbing it from her hands and setting it on a desk.

Hermione started to walk away until she felt the magic change around her, and turned around to see Madame Pince running diagnostic spells for the quality of the returned book. Recognising some of the spells as the ones used for removing excess ink, Hermione smiled as she recognised the care being taken of the books. She wondered whether the spells were easy to learn and could be used on homework to rid of excess ink. Hermione had found writing with a quill very difficult, and the first few pieces of homework had been quite illegible.

Leaving the library deep in her thoughts, Hermione didn't hear Malfoy behind her in the corridor until the pale yellow spell shot past her into the corridor beyond.

"Where are you going, Granger? Ran out of books to read in the library, have you?"

Hermione grimaced and walked a little faster. None of the spells he knew could do any harm, she was sure of it. Determined not to start anything all the same, she ducked behind a statue just around the corner. She watched Malfoy turn the corner and curse, running through a tapestry with Crabbe and Goyle following. At least she had managed to escape something else horrible.

With Malfoy gone, she let out a sigh of relief and looked at the statue. It had writing carved into it. Confused, Hermione realised it was a riddle. _What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years? _it said. Hermione smiled. Ever since she was young, her parents had been giving her riddles and cryptic crosswords to solve. Even though the crosswords were as yet beyond her, she had always had a logical mind, and this seemed simple to her. Touching the statue to make sure she didn't lose her balance, she knelt down to read the rest. _What letter is invisible yet never out of sight?_, _MAMJJAS, _and _OTTFFSS_ were all carved into the stone, and another three were below it, though illegible. Hermione opened her bag to find her _Standard Book of Spells_ book. Leafing through, she found 'Revelio' and kept casting it until each line was revealed from the stone. _What letter is always discovered in the middle of a maze?_, _I am the center of gravity, hold a capital situation in Vienna, and as I am foremost in every victory, am allowed by all to be invaluable_ and _What letter is like noon?_ revealed themselves. Sliding the strap of her back over her shoulder, she sat on the stone floor with her open notebook to write them down. At the bottom of the statue was a symbol Hermione didn't recognise, and she drew that in as well, closing the book and standing up. She couldn't solve them now, but there was no point sitting down getting cold or being late for supper.

McGongall was glaring at her. "I'm disgusted," she said. "Four students out of bed in one night. I've never heard of such a thing. You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense!"

Hermione grimaced. She had tried so hard to be the good student, to do the best she could. It turned out that the best was never good enough – there was friendship to be had as well, and friendship had landed her in trouble again. Worst of all, one of the few people who spoke to her now thought her senseless, and this was more than Hermione could bear. She closed her eyes to stop the tears coming down, knowing Malfoy would make fun of her.

She caught the words "Dangerous", "Detentions" and "Fifty points", from in front of her. Her first detention and it was being given by McGonagall. Hermione started as Harry spoke beside her.

"Fifty?!" he said.

"Fifty points _each_," said Professor McGonagall, breathing angrily.

At this, Hermione felt a surge of anger herself, and spoke out, "Professor, please-" but Harry interrupted, and she felt the tears well up in her throat again, stopping her speaking. All the horrible things that had happened to Hermione so far flashed in front of her eyes, and the burning in her throat intensified. She closed her eyes as they finished talking, and both felt and heard Harry and Neville leave to go back to the common room.

"Miss Granger, please stay." Hermione turned around, and Professor McGonagall continued. "I half expect such reckless behaviour from Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy, but never from you or Mr Longbottom. Leading Mr Malfoy astray in order to get him in trouble is a Slytherin trait, one I never want to see in you again, do you understand? You were placed in Gryffindor for a reason, Miss Granger, don't forget that or start lowering yourself to their standards; you're much better than that."

Hermione walked back to the common room silently and went straight up to her dormitory. She noticed her notepad on her bed, and looked at the riddles. She stared at the first one and read out loud, "What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" She smiled after a few seconds. It was a simple riddle really – the answer being merely a letter of the alphabet rather than a something. The letter was M. Once in _minute_, twice in _moment_ and was not used in _a_ _thousand_ _years_, Hermione knew that most riddles try to confused you by choice of wording. She smiled and wrote down 'M' next to it in her notepad.

_What letter is invisible yet never out of sight_' was a similar line, and Hermione split the word _visible_ from _invisible_ and crossed out the letters which were different between _sight_ and _visible_. That means that it was 'I', due to the pun with _eye _and so she wrote that down too. The next was more difficult and it took her quite a while to work out that each letter pertained to a month. She wrote down the 'N' for November underneath that line. She recognised the sequence as the same style, and wrote down 'E' for Eight. _What letter is always discovered in the middle of a maze?_ She couldn't think of any other words for _maze_ until she remembered learning about the Minotaur in Greek Mythology. She wrote down "Labyrinth" and crossed off the letters from the edge one by one to find the one in the middle. She grinned and write 'R' next to the line. _I am the center of gravity, hold a capital situation in Vienna, and as I am foremost in every victory, am allowed by all to be invaluable _was the easiest, and she wrote down the letter 'V'. Hermione glared at the last one, _What letter is like noon?_

"Midday?" she said "Middle of the day, and which letter is like noon in that it is in the middle of _day_? A. Thank you very much," she said, grinning like a loon as she wrote it down. She blinked, confused, at the word _Minerva_ written on her pad.

Running along the corridors as quietly as she could, Hermione found the statue again, and slid behind it. She took out her wand and started to draw the name 'Minerva' into the stone, underneath the strange symbol. As soon as she had finished, the lettering began to move, rearranging itself into words.

_Nicely done. One more before I let you in, though. A little harder this time_.

Hermione groaned as she realised it was settling into a set of five lines, and the letters started getting clearer. "Another blasted riddle," she said out loud, and the stone wrote a line above the riddle.

_Indeed. Blasted or not, you still have to solve it. _

Hermione stared at it as it disappeared. Clearly the stone could hear her and was waiting for her answer, so she read out the riddle quickly a couple of times. 'A slow, solemn square-dance of warriors feinting. One by one they fall, warriors fainting, thirty-two on sixty-four.' She sat and thought for a while. _Thirty-two on Sixty-four_ clearly referred to some kind of half and half situation, and the two uses of the homophone _fainting_ was interesting. She thought a little longer and grinned.

"A chess game," she said, confidant. "It's a chess game." The script started to move again, and Hermione read the single line.

_Well done. _

She turned and saw the stone walls start to move to form a crack, and the crack kept getting larger. Hermione stood up, and the crack reached to a little taller than her small frame, and started widening. After a few minutes, the crack was large enough to walk through, and Hermione muttered "Lumos"to see where it led. She picked up her school bag and walked through, reaching another door. She was thankful to not see any writing on it, and she pushed the door open and gasped.

Inside was a circular room with a tall window on one side. The walls were totally covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves, and in one end of the room was a dusty, comfy-looking chair, with a lamp on the table which had lit itself in her entrance. She stared at all the titles, like _Advanced Transfiguration Volume XXI_ and ran her finger along all the leather bound tomes. Her mouth slightly agape, she realised that this room contained every transfiguration book possible in existence, far surpassing those in Flourish & Blotts.

She picked one out and started to read about the theory behind changing animals into inanimate objects. It mentioned things Hermione had never heard of before, such as the ways you can aid the transfiguration. She knew that the volume and tone used in a spell made a difference, but she had never heard of having to listen to magic from another living creature. It went on to remind the reader that every object had a magical signature, and that was what you were changing, not the shape itself. 'Mice are the easiest to transfigure,' it stated, 'for the magical signature of such a creature is quite strong and very malleable'. The book then listed a set of spells you could use to be able to see the magical signature of an object, and Hermione began to practice.

By the end of a few hours, Hermione had perfect the spell, and was able to read the magical signature of everything in the room. Most things had a significant green tinge to them, but Hermione couldn't find any reference to what the colours around objects meant. Some had thin strands of magic surrounding them, whereas others only had grey or black, typical markings. Engrossed in the book and all the new knowledge, Hermione neither heard the bell nor saw the time for supper. She didn't know that Professor McGonagall noticed her absence, and she certainly didn't know that she had placed alarms on the statue, to be alerted of anyone entering the room.

"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall, and kept eating.

Hermione suddenly looked at her watch as it started beeping, and Hermione was horrified to realise that it was her alarm to tell her she had ten minutes before curfew started. Grabbing her school bag and turning off the light, she left the room and shut the door, not thinking about the book she had left on the table, or the chair she had moved, or her notepad which she hadn't heard fall to the floor in her haste to leave.

Professor McGonagall had a problem. In returning from supper, she had discovered that whoever was in the room earlier was still in there now. Due to the privacy wards she had placed on the room herself, no one could enter without the express permission of whoever was in there already, and as she was in her private quarters, she just had to wait. She tried to remember where the second entryway was, but since she had been made a member of staff, there had been a link to the room and her private rooms.

McGonagall cursed herself for not thinking about a student coming across the room, but immediately retraced that thought. It had been safe enough in her school years from possible mischief makers, and not even the Weasley twins had found it. Even if they had, she smirked to herself, she remembered the enchantments she had set on the stone. The riddles would alter for each person who wished to enter, so that the passwords couldn't be passed on from person to person. The stone would also recognise the age of the person and change the riddles accordingly. That should have meant that the riddles were far too hard for anyone, and if they asked for help, it would be useless, because they would be answering different riddles.

It had worked for so long – what had changed now? She assumed that one of the Ravenclaw students had worked it out. Seeing as how the stone, wherever it was, only recognised age and not logic ability, there was bound to be a couple of students who would be above the rest of their year. Glancing at the wards to see that whoever had been there earlier was still in there, she set a timer on the wards so that she would know when the room had been vacated.

Marking essays was always a long task, but always so much longer when you had something to wait for. Professor McGonagall found herself checking the wards just in case she had missed them alerting her. Half annoyed and half pleased that someone was clever enough to break the passwords, she stopped marking to think. If someone had been in there for a while, presumably it was someone who was interested in Transfiguration, and was reading the books in there, rather than just studying.

The clock on the wall chimed for half past the hour, and McGonagall hoped that whoever it was would realise it was close to curfew. The wards went off only ten minutes from curfew, and McGonagall smiled. Obviously a student, worried about being late for curfew meant at least that she could knock out the thought of staff finding out about her enchanted room. Walking into the room, she noticed a notepad on the floor, clearly forgotten, and she picked it up. There were only the riddles and scribbled answers in it, the rest of the pages were blank. There wasn't even a name inside. She put it back on the table, on top of the book that lay there. _The Theory Behind Animal Transfiguration _stared back at her, and McGonagall groaned. It was a book on the extended recommended reading list for every year in the school, one she put there certain that no-one ever used the reading lists. She instead decided to set up a few more wards, to tell her as soon as someone entered the room, and she looked through the books to see if any had been taken. None of them were missing, and she felt a certain amount of frustration towards this clearly very careful student. She would find out who it was by the end of the year if it was the last thing she did.

A month or so later, exams started, and Hermione had even more things to concentrate on. Harry and Ron were convinced that they needed to confront Voldemort on their own, but Hermione was more intrigued by the room she had found. She didn't know why it was there, or why it was created in the first place, and she certainly didn't know about any of the alarm wards that were on the outside. Every time she carved the word _Minerva_ and stated 'it's still a chess game,' waiting for the stone wall to move, a small globe of light appeared next to Professor McGonagall wherever she was.

Hermione found that the room was much better than the library to study in, as it was quieter and had better seats. The day of her Transfiguration exam found Hermione in the room again, and looking at her watch, she realised that she had only a few moments until her Transfiguration end of year exam, and she re-read over her notes of spells and extra things to remember.

Little did Hermione know of Professor McGonagall's plan to discover the visitor to her room. She reasoned that someone actually reading the extended reading list would do particularly well in such a task. The only thing for it, after watching all the students carefully to no avail, was to set an animal to object task for exams. Surely someone who knew better ways of doing a task, who knew it would give better results, wouldn't resist showing knowledge in an exam.

Hermione joined the line outside the Transfiguration classroom where the exam was taking place. The students went in individually and came out a few moments later, all looking thankful it was over. Hermione bit her lip, worried. She wondered what the exam entailed, and opened the door. She walked towards Professor McGonagall, who asked her to stand in front of a large desk.

Professor McGonagall reached into a bag and brought out a mouse, looking tired. Her cunning plan of getting all students to do the same task wasn't quite working how she hoped. Clearly whoever it was was keen to stay kidden, and now, with Hermione as the last student, McGonagall was just annoyed.

Hermione bit her lip as she looked at the mouse. Animal transfiguration couldn't possibly be the whole exam could it? Showing off the diagnostic spells would be an obvious sign that she had found the room, and she wasn't sure if she should have been in there in the first place. However, it would guarantee that she would do well, and this was the final exam after all.

McGonagall watched as Hermione looked up at her, and picked up the mouse in her left hand. She turned it to face her and lifted her wand to the fur of the mouse. She muttered a few of the diagnostic spells nervously, and the strands revealed themselves to her. Hermione focussed on turning the mouse into a snuffbox, imagining a pattern that would appeal to the Professor, and again muttered the spell. The mouse turned into a snuffbox, and as Hermione checked it for whiskers. Professor McGonagall was staring at her intently.

"Very sophisticated use of revealing spells, Miss Granger – very impressive," she said, smiling as she wrote something down in her notebook. "A logical mind can be very useful - many think it useless but don't forget how useful it can be." and with that she sent Hermione away.

Professor McGonagall sat down in the chair behind her desk, staring at the wall opposite. Miss Granger. She shouldn't be surprised really, she knew that there must have been a reason for the behaviour of the second book she had given Hermione at Christmas. When she was wrapping the book about Quidditch, the unmarked leather book had leapt from the shelf and had refused to be put back until McGonagall threatened it with being wrapped up and sent with the other book. If books could be smug, this one certainly had been, and McGonagall had sighed, and wrapped that one up too. The main difference between books in the magical world and those in the muggle was that muggle books didn't have minds of their own. They didn't decide when to move on, or who would need them most, they simply sat in shelves until they were read. This book was definitely magical, and it had been very happy at being sent off to Miss Granger.

"She's not old enough for you, yet, you should know that," McGonagall had said, but the book had seemed to give off the feeling that it knew more than she did. Since the exam, she was beginning to rethink her evaluation of Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall sighed again and stood up, wondering how long it was until the end of term. It had been a long year, and she was looking forward to the summer holidays.


	8. Exams and Fluffy

Hermione chewed on her toast, trying to ignore Harry and Ron who were trying to write a list of spells they could use against Voldemort. Hermione shook her head. She didn't suppose _wingardium leviosa_ would be much use against the darkest wizard of all time.

"Why can't you just let the staff deal with it?" she asked, taking advantage of Ron's confusion to take the last sausage from under his poised fork. "I mean, they have Fluffy. Just how much protection do they need?"

Ron finally moved and stabbed his fork directly onto the plate where the sausage had been. The fork screeched on contact with the crockery, and Hermione winced. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped with the arrival of the owls. Hermione scanned the flurry of wings for the school owl she had used the previous week. She saw it dip towards her and it dropped a large brown envelope into her waiting hands.

She ripped it open and drew out a sheet of writing paper, covered in her father's illegible handwriting.

"Dear Hermione.

It certainly sounds like you're enjoying your time at Hogwarts, which is nice to hear. I've enclosed a few things that I think should... I think the term is "keep you out of mischief" but you always seemed to do that on your own steam, so perhaps "keep your nose out of a book for a bit" is more relevant. I'm sure your exams are going far better than you make out, though I know from experience you won't rest with the nerves until you get your results. Best of luck, not that you need it.

Lots of love,

Mum + Dad. (Mostly Dad, let's face it.)"

Hermione grinned, and peered into the envelope. She moved her plate aside and turned the envelope upside down onto the table. It had been packed with newspaper cuttings paper-clipped together and a couple of them fell onto the floor. Hermione bent under the table to pick them up, and returned to find Ron holding one of them, staring at it.

"Hermione, what on earth is this?" He turned it over to reveal a square made up of smaller white and black squares.

"That, Ronald, would be a Crossword."

"Which is...?"

Hermione sighed. How magical folk were supposed to be more advanced when they didn't even have crosswords, she didn't know.

"It's a type of logic puzzle, with words. There will be clues to what go in the spaces."

Ron took the crossword from under the paperclip and unfolded it. Sure enough, there was a list of clues. "Unusually remote colossal body," he said. He frowned. "How is that a clue? It's not even a question."

"It is if you look at it the right way," Hermione retorted, "though that particular clue doesn't make sense. Are you sure it doesn't say _celestial_?" Ron grimaced and passed her both the block and the individual crossword.

"I still don't get it."

"Well, the word _unusual_ at the beginning usually means that there's a scrambled word in there, probably _remote_ as it's the next one. The _celestial body_ is the clue. The answer is _meteor; _it's acelestial body and it's an anagram of _remote_..."

"What's a meteor?"

Hermione sighed. "I give up."

Hermione took out a biro and filled in _meteor_ in the relevant space, then turned to the other clues.

"What's that?"

"A muggle quill with ink that won't sink through this thinner paper," Hermione replied, not looking up from filling in "Impel" for "Dreadful lie about politician's drive (5)"

"Oh."

It suddenly dawned on Hermione that she had revision to do, so she gathered her things together. Defence against the Dark Arts was soon, and it would do well to forget the details of the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct amongst other details. She decided to take her notes to the room she had found previously.

She turned the relevant corner clutching her bag, as it was too heavy to leave on her shoulders. Crouching behind the statue, she carved the word _Minerva_ into it under the lines. She smiled as _Minerva_ disappeared and the words _A slow, solemn square-dance_ started to appear onto the stone.

"It's a chess game," she said, at the statue.

The wall behind her moved as usual, and a small globe of light appeared next to Professor McGonagall in her office. As Hermione settled herself into the familiar desk and table, a book that had been left on the table caught her eye. As soon as she moved her hand towards it however, it slid far enough away from her that it was out of her reach. She grimaced and retrieved _Standard Book of Spells Grade 2 _from her bag. It had been in the common room that morning, and Hermione had taken it to get an idea of what they would be learning next year. She found what looked like a useful page and took out her wand under the table. She stared at the shuffling book, hoping she could be quick enough to freeze it before it moved away from her. She quickly drew her wand out from under the table and shouted, "Immobulus!"

The book only had chance to slide a centimetre or so before Hermione's successful freezing charm stopped it. Hermione cackled and grabbed the book. _The_ _Anthropomorphic Book of Anthropomorphism in Transfiguration_ it said, in faded text. She blinked. She had never been in want of a dictionary more and wondered whether there was a spell for defining things. The book shuddered and leapt out of her hands as it broke free of her freezing charm. Hermione let it go and turned to the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct. She didn't see the book leap back onto the bookshelf and through the wood to the other side of the stone wall, in its desperate bid for freedom.

Professor McGonagall jumped as a book hit the floor in her office. She leaned around her desk to see it lollop towards the bookshelves on the other side of the room, and she took out her wand quickly. "_Immobulus_!" she shouted. It stopped moving, but starting growling instead. She walked over to it, and picked the book off the floor to bring it to eye height. "If you were really anthropomorphic, I'd use _petrificus totalus_ on you, not i_mmobulus_. Nevertheless, you are useful." She took the book back to her desk and put it down. As it moved to the left a millimetre, she squinted as menacingly as she could from over the top of her glasses. It moved back. "Much better," she said. "Now where did my—"

Hermione looked from behind her hands, down at her notes. "Yes!" she exclaimed, upon realising she had managed to memorise the whole thing. She leant back in her chair, taking in the rest of the room. An ornate chess set sat on the table in front of her, where the moving book had been, and Hermione drew it towards her. No matter how much her father had tried to teach her chess, she was still useless. The thought was that if she could understand crosswords and riddles she could understand chess, but it was not to be. Hermione didn't move any of the pieces, but stared at the board for a few minutes. The pieces looked back at her, until eventually one of the rooks spoke.

"Are ye just going to stare at us, or are ye going to play?" it asked.

Hermione jumped, not used to chessmen with a Scottish accent. "I don't think that's wise; I'm not very good at chess. In fact, I think the more accurate word would be useless. That and you're not my chess set."

The rook shrugged. "We can always help, and we'll move back to where we were afterwards. She'll never know, then."

Hermione looked around, not entirely sure what she was expecting to find. "Fine," she said. The rook grinned and moved back to his starting square, as did all the other pieces.

"White or black?" it asked her.

"Black. Then I don't have to make the first move."

"Someone always has to make to make the first move."

"Yes, well, I'd always rather it wasn't me, if you don't mind." Hermione tried not to blush.

"First to check, or shall we go to checkmate?"

"Better be first to check. I have studying to do, you know."

"Sure, sure."

The rook smirked and kicked the pawn in front of him forward two squares. Hermione moved the pawn in front of her queen forward two squares. The pawn in front of the white king moved forward one square. Hermione moved her queen forward two squares. The white kingside bishop moved through the gap created by the king front pawn only four squares. Through the gap between pawns and queen, the bishop turned to face the king.

"Check."

Hermione put her head in her hands. "How many moves was that?" she asked.

"I believe that was five. You moved two pieces. I moved three. Rather pitiful, if you don't mind me saying." The rook shook its head and walked diagonally across the squares to where it had been before, to G5. "Back to previous positions, comrades," it said. Most of the pieces walked off the board; the rest rearranged themselves to where they had been before.

"I did say I was awful," Hermione muttered, and retrieved more books from her bag to continue revising.

The rest of the exams continued, as did Hermione's use of the room. When she wasn't in the common room or with Harry and Ron, she was in the room revising. She found that although the library was quiet, being there meant that people knew where to find her and ruin her revision. Hermione liked the silence of the books, even though she often felt like she had interrupted a conversation when she walked into the room. She often found that when curfew came, all she wanted to do was to continue curling up with all the books and the ever-talkative chess set that kept trying to persuade her to play again.

Professor McGonagall grew used to seeing Hermione at breakfast and then a few moments later, have a ball of light appear just as she was finishing her own toast. The light would reappear every hour until meal times, or on the occasional afternoon when Hermione had an exam it would disappear for a while. One morning, McGonagall noticed that she hadn't seen the ball of light in a while. The room was indeed empty, and the chess set told her that Hermione had left before lunch and not returned. She left her office with a collection of library books to renew just as a Phoenix patronus appeared before her.

"I have received an urgent owl from the Ministry, Minerva. I leave the school in your capable hands for this afternoon. I trust I shall not be long." McGonagall nodded, and the patronus disappeared. Dumbledore disappearing to the Ministry was normal, so she thought nothing of it.

Ten minutes later, she rounded the corner to come face to face with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. "What are you three doing inside?" she asked them.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione. She looked determined, and McGonagall wondered whether the change in character was a good thing.

"See Professor Dumbledore," she repeated, confused. "Why?" It seemed strange that only minutes after he had left, a group of first years would be looking for him. That and for what would they want to see him?

"It's sort of secret," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall felt her nostrils flare. She had been left in charge for a reason, because she was just as important as Dumbledore was. Whatever they wanted to talk to him about, they could just as easily talk to her. "Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said, coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone, now?"

McGonagall wondered whether Ron or Hermione were capable of speech any more. "Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time – "

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" She looked down at him over her glasses just as she had on the _Anthropomorphic book of Anthropomorphism in Transfiguration_.

"Professor. It's about the Philosopher's Stone."

Professor McGonagall's heart stopped for a moment. The strength in her arms left, and her books fell to the floor. She left them on the floor, to stare at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. After all they had done to keep the Philosopher's Stone secret from the students, here they were about to discuss it with Dumbledore! "How do you know..." she managed.

"Professor, I think - I know - that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said. "I don't know how you found out about the stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine." She bent down and gathered up the fallen books, casting a quick _Immobulus_ on one particular book that Hermione stared at for a while.

Professor McGonagall walked away with her books, passing Professor Snape on the way. They nodded at each other, not unlike bikers who pass each other on roads, and she eventually made it to the library.

Hermione, after trying to follow Snape unsuccessfully, kept with Harry and Ron all afternoon into the evening. By the time it came for them to go through the trap door, she was in a dream-like state. It felt to her as though she was watching herself stun Neville, create flames against the Devil's Snare, help Harry catch the door key and follow them into the next room. It was only when she found herself at the edge of a huge chess set that she came to.

"...Hermione, you go next to Harry instead of that castle," Ron said.

Hermione looked at the rook. It reminded her strongly of the one that had persuaded her to play in the secret room, and she was suddenly very glad that Ron was the one directing. It wouldn't do well to lose to this set in five moves. Before long, she found herself in Snape's room with Harry. She recognised the bottles as the ones she had seen in Professor Snape's bag back in Diagon Alley over the summer. They were lined up on a table with a roll of parchment lying next to them.

'Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.

One amongst us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, are all different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.'

Hermione grinned. "Brilliant. This isn't magic, it's logic, a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't an ounce of logic; they'd be stuck in here for ever." Hermione was reminded of the crosswords that her father had sent her via owl, and grinned again. There were some perks to being muggleborn – this was one of them.

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry said.

"Of course not. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison, two are wine, one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times, looking up at the bottles. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering. "Second left and second right are the same, so we don't want them. If they're both nettle wine, then far left is poison and so is the fifth bottle, if they're both poison... _Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides_ ...so it can't be. Far left has to be poison..." she continued muttering, while Harry watched her. "...and if far left is poison then second is wine, so... _different are those who stand at either end_ and we've used up both wines from the two poisons, but _if you would move onwards, neither is your friend_ so far right takes you backwards. _Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides_ so that leaves..." Hermione grinned, staring at the smallest bottle.

Harry looked at her, expectantly.

"Got it. The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire, towards the stone," she said.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow." Harry looked confused, at best. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at the far right hand bottle.

Harry looked at it, and picked it up to hand to her. "You drink that, go back, and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm not match for him really."

Hermione blinked. "But Harry, what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well, I was lucky once, wasn't I?" He pointed at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione fought the urge to tell him that it wasn't as simple as that. She hugged him instead.

"Hermione!"

"Harry, you're a great wizard, you know." She didn't have the heart to tell him that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was bound to be better than an eleven year old.

"I'm not as good as you."

She hadn't expected that. If she'd realised that locking herself in a bathroom with a troll would lead to declarations of brilliance, she would have done it before Halloween. "Me? Books, and cleverness? There are more important things, friendship and bravery. Do be careful, Harry."

"You drink first. You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," she said. She picked up the bottle at the end of the table and looked at the fire in front of her, which Harry would have to go through. She shuddered at the thought.

"It's not poison?" Harry asked, mistaking her shudder to being a reaction to the contents of the bottle. Hermione hadn't even tasted it, but now she felt strangely cold. She hoped this was a good sign.

"No, but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck, take care—"

"GO!"

Hermione twitched, and walked straight through the purple fire. The fire now behind her flickered, and she heard the fire at the other end of the room surge as Harry must have walked through it. She walked past the troll, resisting the urge to kick it as she went past, lest it woke. She re-entered the chessboard, to see the pieces back in their starting positions. She skirted past the board, glad that she didn't have to play her way across the board to get to Ron. That certainly would have ended well if she had. Ron was crumpled in a heap in the corner, as though he had been dragged off the board. She prodded him with her wand, to no avail. She tapped the knee of the knight closest to her, and it turned to face her.

"Aye?"

"I was wondering if you could help me move him. You see, I don't think I'm strong enough to carry him..."

If it could have raised an eyebrow, it would have done. Nevertheless, it jumped off the horse, and helped her carry him towards the room with all the keys and brooms. Thankfully, the keys seemed to know which direction she had come from, and didn't attack her when she touched the brooms. Balancing Ron on the front of the broom, she edged it forwards.

Soon enough, she found herself hovering above the Devil's Snare pushing the trap door open. She flew through, clinging to Ron and screaming "ALOHAMORA" in the hope that if she crashed into the door in the other end, she might still have all her limbs. Sure enough, she and Ron crashed through the door, and it clicked behind her. From the force of the door, the broom tipped sideways and they both fell off.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione opened one eye, to find herself looking at one Professor McGonagall, who seemed too shocked to be angry.

"What on earth...?"

Hermione took advantage of the shock, to hit McGonagall with a barrage of words, explaining why they'd gone through the trapdoor, and how Ron had been hurt, and that they'd reached the potions and she'd left."

"Potter?"

Hermione nodded.

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand behind her, which let out a silver cat. That cat streaked out of the door. "A message, Miss Granger, to Dumbledore."

"I don't need to send him an owl, then."

"Indeed not," spoke a familiar voice. Dumbledore rounded the corner, which sent Professor McGonagall into another wave of shock.

"I thought you had gone to London, Headmaster!"

"I did, Minerva. I came back. Now, I believe there is a student who needs my help. If you could escort Miss Granger and Mr Weasley to the hospital wing, I would be most grateful."

"Of course."

At that moment, more members of staff rounded the corner, who followed Dumbledore through the door to Fluffy. Hermione heard the beginning of a piece of music, before the door shut, leaving her alone with Ron and Professor McGonagall. She stood up, and looked down at Ron, who didn't seem too keen to wake up any time soon. She bent down to put him back on the broom, but McGonagall put a hand on her shoulder.

"Allow me, Miss Granger. _Mobilicorpus._"

With that, Ron rose into the air, limbs hanging limply. Hermione forced her mouth to close, and smiled gratefully at her.

"A fair sight easier than dragging the poor boy via broomstick, don't you think?"

"Yes, Professor. Reading _The Rules and History of Quidditch _hasn't done anything for my fear of flying, I'm afraid, just made me more wary of the bludgers."

McGonagall smiled. They walked in silence to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too impressed.

"And how on earth did this happen, Miss Granger?"

Before Hermione could respond, however, Professor McGonagall had spoken. "They, and Potter, were on their way to the Philosopher's Stone. Potter will be up shortly, Dumbledore has gone to get him."

"How far did they get?"

"Severus" room."

Hermione looked up at Professor McGonagall, surprised. "How on earth did they...?"

"I think you'll find that solving riddles is one of Miss Granger's strengths, Poppy." Professor McGonagall winked at her. Hermione tried not to blush too much, unsuccessfully.

Madame Pomfrey busied herself with Ron, and a few seconds later the door opened to reveal Dumbledore levitating Harry in front of him. Madame Pomfrey quickly ushered Hermione and McGonagall out of the hospital wing, so that she could attend to Ron and Harry. Professor McGonagall walked Hermione back to the common room, as it was after curfew. They stopped just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, where Hermione turned to McGonagall.

"Professor, do you think that Harry will be ok?" she asked.

"I believe so, judging by past luck and a small entourage of staff. He should be here soon."

Hermione looked down at her hands, and worried a small piece of skin on her left forefinger. "Are you going to take away points from us, Professor?"

"I think not. That would rather destroy the point of having, what was it, "_daring, nerve and chivalry",_ I think the hat put it at the beginning of the year?"

Hermione smiled. "Does the hat ever make mistakes, Professor?" She tried to read the expression in McGonagall's face, but to no avail.

"Perhaps once in a few hundred ears, yes, the sorting hat can be mistaken. However," and here she lifted Hermione's chin, "I think you'll find that you are exactly where you belong. Should you think differently, think how much bravery it took to go where you were tonight.

Don't try telling me that you only went because Potter and Weasley were going. You kept calm in solving the riddles; you managed to fly to help catch the key. You also kept your cool playing my chess board, which one of my rooks tells me is not as much of a strong point as your logic is."

They both smiled.

"That's better."


End file.
